


Secret Service Detail (Presidential AU)

by bjjones



Series: Afternoon Fic [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Politics, American Politics, F/M, M/M, Militia, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Political Parties, President Harold, Terrorism, Terrorists, The Secret Service - Freeform, presidential au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8499031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjjones/pseuds/bjjones
Summary: John Reese, former Army Ranger, stalked down the hallway towards the Executive Residence.  No one tried to stop him, they knew the situation, and what the Agent had to do.  It was time for the President to get back to work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this particular Afternoon Fic came from my partner, who reblogged a series of gifs from Olympus Has Fallen - making a comment about Reese being President Harold's Secret Service Agent...
> 
> The rest was Political History.
> 
> There is a sequel idea in the works, and back story for Reese before he met President Harold, but at that moment that bunny is roaming.
> 
> Quick thanks to Janet for the Beta

***

John Reese, former Army Ranger, stalked down the hallway towards the Executive Residence. No one tried to stop him, they knew the situation, and what the Agent had to do. 

It was time for the President to get back to work. 

Everyone understood his pain, losing the woman he loved was devastating and the Nation mourned with him, but now the American people needed to see their President, knowing that he was healing and move on with them.

The problem.

The President was stubborn, and even his best friend Nathan Ingram, who happened to be his Chief of Staff couldn't get through to him. Shockingly, he had gotten tossed out of the Executive Residence. The Secret Service Agents were impressed that such a small guy could knock Ingram on his ass.

The only one left, who could face his wrath, was his personal bodyguard. 

John Reese was recruited out of the Army straight into the Secret Service. He'd been conscripted after he'd saved the lives of two Senators who were touring one of the US Bases in Afghanistan. Their actions had almost gotten his men killed. Everyone had watched in awe and fear, as he called them morons, and sent their asses packing.

Six months later, he was assigned as a Special Agent to one of the morons, who requested him, stating he had liked John's attitude. Considering the fact that Senators weren't even supposed to have Secret Service protection, it was quite a shock to John. After saving the Senator's life a second time, Reese was promoted to Special Agent in Charge. After the Senator retired, his reputation as a skilled agent, who never compromised on security and had no problems telling it like it was to his protectees, had him transferred to the White House.

He turned the corner, and moved swiftly down the hallway. 

The two guards shifted out of his way. 

He didn't stop. 

Agent Reese slammed the doors open, not caring if he startled the President, and banged them shut behind him, making the paintings on the wall rattle. Not losing his momentum, he made his way across the room, jerked open the heavy curtains, letting in the early morning light.

"Time to get up Mr. President." He yelled, as he walked over to the bed and tossed off the covers. "You have a meeting with your Chief of Staff in an hour, lunch with the Majority of the House, your staff wants to prep you for the upcoming Peace Summit, a news conference at four, and you get to finish the day with a state dinner with the Ambassador from Chili."

"Don't you knock?" He sat up in the bed grabbing his glasses and glared at the head of his security detail. 

The room and its occupant came into focus, as his eyes adjusted to the light, and sleepiness began to fade away. Stood before him was his 6'4" bodyguard, who made him feel small, well smaller than his 5'8" petite frame. The former Army Ranger's dark hair was starting to show more of the grey, which he had a feeling was mostly related to guarding the President. He was wearing his standard dark suit, ear piece dangling on his shoulder, he couldn't see the weapons he carried, but he knew the Agent had more than the standard issue.

"Not if I can help it." John held out his hand to help him out of the bed. "Shower, then food, I had your assistant pull your favorite three piece suit, with the bright yellow pocket square."

"I don't…"

"Harold." John squatted down in front of him. "I know it hurts. And you don't really want to do anything, but you not just some IT guy at a Fortune 500 company, nor a Senator, who can take time off. You _are_ the President of the United States."

"I lost my wife!" he snapped.

"And I lost two of my men." John pointed out, not letting his anger faze him. "Whose families are dealing with the same loss, you are." 

It had been an accident.

That's it.

Just a stupid accident.

No conspiracy. No threats. No terrorists.

A stupid fucking accident.

The First Lady, Grace, had been returning from a park dedication.

On the way back it started raining, the car in front of them skidded on the slick road, losing control, and setting off a chain reaction. Her SUV had been sideswiped, sending it into a roll, and down an embankment. It had taken emergency crews two hours to extract them from the vehicle.

The driver had been killed instantly.

Her personal guard died of blood loss on the way to the hospital.

They lost the First Lady in surgery. 

John was on duty the night Harold had gotten the call. He escorted him to the hospital and was the one who held him as the doctors broke the news. The photo of the moment had gone viral. It was the only one in existence, the glare John had given the hospital worker who snapped the first one was enough to stop them from taking a second.

As the Nation mourned with the President he stood quietly by his side.

The President had been left alone for six weeks to mourn, as the Vice President made the official rounds and took over his duties. 

But now the American people and government demanded their President.

"I'll be right here, by your side, Harold." 

He had been assigned to him from the beginning, when Senator Harold Finch started his campaign for the Democratic Presidential Nominee. It was Grace, who had charmed the world, Harold smiling brightly by her side. But it was his sincerity and compassion that had spurred the younger voters, upsetting the establishment, leading to the shocking conclusion of an unknown Senator from New York becoming President. 

"Like, I've always been."

"You have been a very good friend to me, John." He smiled, and then took a deep breath. "Okay, let's do this."

John returned the smile as the President got out of the bed, with an air of purpose. He limped towards the bathroom, an old injury that he'd received back in high school, acting up when Harold was tired or sore. John stared at his ass for a few seconds, before focusing on the job at hand.

He had fallen in love with the quiet unassuming man the day they met. He had contemplated removing himself from his detail, but realized he didn't trust anyone else with the job. Grace figured it out early in the campaign, she had given him a sly smile, patted him on the shoulder, and told him she understood how easy it was to fall in love with Harold. She never doubted his commitment to her husband's security, trusted that Harold was safe in his hands. 

At the funeral John promised her, he would stay by Harold's side and made sure he kept living. He needed him as a bodyguard and as a friend, nothing more. And that is what he'll be for him.

*******

"Well that was rude." Harold frowned as the diplomat insulted his Secret Service Agent on the way out. John was far from old and he still kicked the younger agents ass during training. One just didn't become Special Agent in Charge of the Presidential Detail by looking pretty, though Harold had to admit, John was that. He was also smart, thought five steps ahead of everyone else, and was very deadly.

He still remembered in stunning detail the one time, early in the campaign, someone had gotten to close and John came out of nowhere pushing the guy back before Harold even registered anything was wrong. 

At times it scared him how dedicated the Agent was. He knew if anyone ever truly intended to hurt him, John would kill and die, if need be, to protect him. 

He understood it was the Secret Service's job, but John wasn't one of the faceless agents, he was his friend. Harold wasn't sure how he would've gotten through the last year without him. 

"I'm not worth being offended over." John smiled, gaze sweeping the room, despite being in the Oval Office. He had gotten used to the odd looks, surprised expressions, and the odd sneer over the past year. It wasn't precedent to have a Secret Service Agent inside the Oval Office, especially listening in on Top Secret meetings. But after the death of First Lady, Harold's psychologist had suggested that Agent Reese was given Security Clearance to be in the Oval Office to keep the President calm. "Besides his daughter smacked my ass on the way out, he's got a handful with that one."

Harold laughed. 

"So I hear the million dollar question going around, is if you're going to run for second term." John gave him a side eye, watching as he gathered his papers. In the past year he had aged, and it was starting to show. All those who have taken the position as President, age ten years by the time they leave office. Harold's limp was more pronounced and the bald spot was, balder, though the spikey hair covered it well, and if all else failed, there were the hats he took to wearing.

"I'm not sure." He answered honestly, it was something that had been on his mind a lot over the past few months, and seemed to be the topic of conversation with everyone he met. From the head of the DNC to the nice intern who brought him his tea.

He had never wanted to be President. 

It was Nathan who had gotten him into it. 

The two had started IFT together. 

Nathan Ingram was the front man, and Harold was the brains hiding away in the server room. He had been perfectly fine with that. After 9/11 they wanted to do something, to help. Harold ended up running for office, how, he wasn't sure. Grace stood by his side, and did more of the leg work than he did. Nathan ended up in the background, their positions reversed. He was the perfect campaign manager, which easily transferred over to Chief of Staff. When Harold questioned why Nathan was not the front man, he pointed out that he was divorced, had multiple affairs, and was known for some shady business deals. 

Not good 'Family Values', unless of course he was a Republican. 

When they decided to run as the dark horse for the Presidency, he laughed, only to cry when he won. 

"I've been doing good things, but I'm tired."

"I can relate." The amount of threats the President received had gone up since he'd passed the first stage of Universal Healthcare, making sure all children were covered at no cost to their parents. Then with the added Education Bill that gave free tuition for community college, and helped students get relief from college debts, the sections of extreme conservatism went nuts. John wasn't even looking forward to the amount of threats that would come in, once President Finch released his gun control plan.

"How many, threats?"

"Five."

"Well that's less…"

"Today."

Harold stared at him in shock. "I guess I'm doing something right or horribly wrong."

"People are stupid." The President gave him a look, John shrugged. The gullibility he discovered over the past decade working this job was amazing. The amount of times he heard, _'I read it on the internet that the President was taking away their RIGHTS and he must be stopped'_ , usually said idiot really had no idea what was going on, just what he heard on some loudmouth's radio show. 

But then, those guys were easily caught.

What worried him were the true believers.

The lone wolf.

"We need to talk about your upcoming trip to New York." John held the door as they walked out of the Oval Office towards the Executive Residence. 

He stepped into guard position, two back and to the left of Harold. His position had thrown many in the beginning, expecting to see him on the President's right, but John preferred the position considering he was left handed. Though he liked to keep everyone on their toes, and flip to Harold's right, since he could shoot as well with his right. 

He stayed quiet as Ingram settled next to the President and the two started talking about the Net Neutrality issue, another thing that Harold had been pushing to keep free. 

His team settled into their positions. 

Fusco and Carter took front, watching everything around them. 

Reese handpicked the President's Security Detail. 

Joslyn Carter, was a former Military Interrogator, and could still make the young recruits cry. Her reputation in Afghanistan, as hard yet caring, was what intrigued him. When he moved to White House Detail, he sent out enquires about her whereabouts, discovering she had left the military to raise her son, and was working in New York as a Detective. 

She still tells everyone he kidnapped her. John always pointed out that he gave her a much better offer, and was confident she would take it, so moving her from New York to DC before she accepted the job was good planning.

Taylor, her son, worked as an intern in the West Wing. The kid was smart, and was going places, away from bullets and wars, which made his mom very happy, along with John who had become a pseudo Uncle.

Lionel Fusco, was a former DC Detective. Reese had followed the 'HR' scandal in the papers, keeping an eye on the investigation, making sure it didn't slide into federal agencies, especially the Secret Service. At first he thought Fusco had been on the take, only to find out he had been undercover for three years, weeding out the corrupt officials. Unfortunately it had ruined his career, no police department trusted him. He had broken the 'thin blue line' and was labeled a snitch. Reese swooped in and snagged him for his team.

His second, Sameen Shaw, ran the Auxiliary Team, which consisted of Joey Durban and Daniel Tully, as her point men.

He had met Shaw during an investigation he had worked while protecting the Senator, back in the early years of his career. She'd been on a similar investigation, both of them gunning for the same perpetrator. Reese snatched the guy out from under her nose, causing problems between their Agencies. 

When he moved to the White House, he gave her a job to make up for it. 

She didn't past the psychological test, but he hired her anyway, ignoring all the warnings the Secret Service therapist had sent him. Reese didn't really care if she had no emotions towards their protectees, as long as she protected and killed anyone who got near them, he was good.

Though it took him a while to convince her that shooting everyone who came to close to their protectee wasn't always a good idea. Though, when he assigned her the Auxiliary Team, for Harold, he gave her free reign to shoot anyone who came too close to the President.

She was damn good at her job, and proved it by being the only one who noticed John's feelings for Harold. Shaw reminded him daily that he was an idiot, and emotionally compromised. Also pointed out that she would kill him if he dies in some heroic bullshit matter sacrificing himself to save the President.

He pointed out that was their job.

She ignored him and stole his lunch.

Joey Durban served six years in Afghanistan, honorably discharged as a decorated soldier. Reese had worked with his unit, and new they were good men. When his resume had passed over his desk, he traveled to New York, to meet with Joey, who was working as a doorman trying to make ends meet. John discovered that he was trying to help the widow and daughter of one of his teammates who didn't make it home. John hired him instantly, and then got in touch with a few charity organizations to help the young widow. 

He assigned him to Shaw's team, John's pretty sure Joey still hasn't forgive him.

Daniel Tully was a damn good undercover agent. John had actually arrested the guy during a raid on a hate organization that, at the time, had threatened, Senator Finch. When he started his interrogation, it came out that Tully worked with the FBI to infiltrate these organizations. Half the information the Secret Service had received on threats to the President was from Tully.

With his wife ready to have their second child, he wanted out of undercover work. John gave him a new opportunity. At first he worked behind the scenes, investigating threats that were received, discovering which were valid, and those that had no substance. 

It was during the Presidents first 100 days that Tully's undercover work paid off. He was moving through the White House, desperate to get a hold of Reese, about a tip he had received, when he recognized someone from his undercover days. Before anyone could blink, he had the guy on the ground. John's boss wanted Daniel arrested for attacking a high ranking Senate Aide. He refused and dug deeper into the Aide's background to discover he had sent threats to President Finch on many occasions. The Aide had used his connections to get a job working with a known anti-everything Congressman, and maneuvered his way into the White House.

John moved Tully to Shaw's team.

These were the ones John trusted for Harold's main Security Detail. 

The Agents that guarded doors, walked the limo, and were additional security had been vetted by Reese and Shaw. The ones that survived had the privilege of protecting the President.

As the two entered the Executive Residence, John nodded at Fusco and Carter then closed the door. He slipped out his earpiece, before moving across the room to check the windows and doors.

"I doubt anyone has gotten into my rooms, Mr. Reese." Harold called out as he made his way to the closet to remove his jacket. "I know you've vetted anyone who comes into them."

"Zoey did." 

He smirked before sitting down at the small table that had lunch for the two of them. 

After Harold had gone back to work, John noticed he was throwing himself into the job, refusing to eat and at times sleep. He ended up tricking Harold into having lunch with him. The President hadn't realized he sat for an hour to eat and rest. Afterwards, John's made sure, when time and circumstances allowed, they would have lunch at least once a week. It was the only time, he took off his earpiece and turned off his communications. What they talked about was private, and despite being the President of the United States, Harold was a very private person.

"Ms. Morgan is a force to be reckoned with." Harold stated as he sat down across from him, smiling at the Chinese take-out. "How did you pull this off?"

"She owed me." He smirked sipping his coffee. "I introduced her to Shaw."

Harold blinked as he picked up the box of dumplings. "And that's a favor?"

"They're dating."

The President blinked a few times. "That was unexpected, but good for them. Will that be a conflict of interest for Ms. Shaw?"

"Zoey was already vetted, and she has no say in your schedule. She runs the White House staff, not your personal calendar, besides both woman our professionals. Zoey knows that Shaw's first priority will be you, and Shaw knows Zoey will run her over if she gets in the way during any White House Event."

Harold smiled softly, remembering their first Christmas at the White House. Zoey ran the three day decoration extravaganza like a military campaign. Grace had wanted to help, having always enjoyed decorating their home for Christmas. At one point Zoey literally ran her over, and was horrified, yet not repentant. The two had become good friends after that. Though his smile faded slightly, he was content to be able to think of Grace without the devastation of loneliness. He looked up from his meal, and watched John for a few seconds, knowing it was his presence that made the days easier. 

To get out of that particular train of thought, he asked. "What about New York?"

John ate a few bites, trying to figure out how to tell him the information they found. "There's a viable threat to you."

"Viable?" He set down his box, showing his concern. "As in a real threat?"

"All threats against you are real, Mr. President." John gave him a stern look. "But this one has weight in it. Tully's done some digging into his old contacts, and came up with names already on our watch list. Fusco ran with it, discovered a few underground chat rooms, talking about making a statement in New York, 'specifically taking out that Communist Bastard who's polluting their country'."

"Communist Bastard?" One of Harold's arched. "That's a new one."

"Well you know free health care for children is the sign of the end times." John snarked, as he set his own box down. "By the way that program you wrote helped us tremendously."

"I'm glad." He smiled, taking pride that he could help. "The systems they have in the White House are horrid. The fact the Secret Service was relying on out dated equipment to protect well, the President, was wrong." He reached for the cup of Sencha Green Tea. "I'm sure the secondary program is helping."

"Oh you mean the one that allows us access to a variety of government systems to run background checks, facial recognition, and DNA scans? Known as _The Machine_?" John smirked at him. "No idea what you're talking about."

The President huffed as he sipped his tea. "What do you want to do, John?"

"Besides lock you in the Oval Office?" He chuckled at the incredulously look the older man gave him. "I'm sending Shaw to check the threats. You will have Fusco and Carter or Tully and Durban with you at all times. You will do as I say, no back talking Mr. President."

"This really has you worried." He set the cup down, reaching over to touch John's hand. "What aren't you telling me?"

He looked down at their hands, taking a moment to enjoy the touch. "An anonymous note was sent to my email." He pulled out the sheet of paper and handed it over. It was a rule they had between them, no lies.

_Dear Puppy,_

_I admire your guard dog characteristics but even good dogs have to sleep._

_I can't wait to meet Harry in New York._

_Root_

Harold dropped the paper onto the table with a low growl in his throat. "That woman has been a nuisance for far too long."

"I agree." His goal was to find and take her out. Jail really wasn't an option for someone like Root. The closest they had gotten to her, was the day they were moving through Grand Central Station. He still regretted not having his full team that day. Since it was during the Democratic Primaries he was working with a much smaller unit. If Shaw had been with him, he would've gone after the bitch and left Harold in her hands. 

Root started off as an admirer and worked her way to stalker, when Harold was a Senator. As he campaigned for the Nomination, and then the Presidency, her level of obsession grew. John was sure that she was setting up the situation in New York, using the militia as a cover.

Harold sat back in his seat. "If you want me to cancel."

"You can't, and we both know it." John reclined in his own chair. "This Art Charity Event is in Grace's name, and I'll be damned if Root ruins it for you."

"I trust you, John. You have watched over me from the beginning. I've never taken her threats seriously, because I know you will be there. I don't know what I'll do after the White House, whether next year or after another term. I've gotten used to having you always at my side."

"I'll always be here, Harold." John's smile was soft, his expression showing more than he wanted. "Besides I'll just make sure I'm assigned to you in retirement. Just because you leave the White House doesn't mean you can get rid of me."

Harold laughed. "So we'll retire to the countryside."

"Maybe even get a dog."

*******

John's team was on full alert. 

Snipers were on the rooftops.

Agents lined the red carpet.

Undercover Agents were inside catering and the ballroom.

Carter and Fusco were already at the event, dressed to blend in and watch the crowds. 

Shaw may have bitched about the evening gown, but she moved easily between the ballroom, security, and kitchen. She kept an eye out for anything suspicious, or anyone who was somewhere where they shouldn't be.

Tully and Durban were waiting to take point once the limo pulled up to the curb.

The Art Charity Event was being held at IFT, Nathan and Harold's company. Though they had given up running the day to day operations, leaving it in the hands of Nathan's son Will, they were still the founders and owners. It was fitting to have the event at where Grace and Harold had met. 

The story was legendary. 

And will likely be a movie once Harold left Office.

Nathan had dragged him out of the server rooms to get some fresh air and coffee. Harold decided to get ice cream, and end up running into Grace, knocking the ice cream she just bought onto the ground. Harold bought her a second cone and the two started talking. Nathan tells everyone that he stood there for an hour watching, Harold never noticed him. The two were inseparable after that. Harold surprised her for her birthday, with a scavenger hunt around New York, ending with him proposing. Soon after they got married, they ended up with a little grey mutt, named Chumley. 

The dog had been with them through the campaign for Senator of New York, and later the Presidency. They lost the little guy, after Harold had won the Democratic Nomination. Critics stated he had won the Presidency on the death of a dog, and kept it on the death of his wife. 

It was the rare time Shaw had to stop Reese from killing someone.

The event was sponsored by the _Sunday Park Art Gallery,_ which Grace had owned and operated in New York City. It was showcasing and auctioning off artwork from new upcoming artist. Two of Grace's pieces were also being auctioned. All proceeds were going to the Alzheimer Foundation, in honor of Harold's late father. 

It wasn't going to be an easy night for Harold. 

John had watched him while he dressed, noticing the slowness in his movements. It had been a little over a year, since they'd lost Grace and he was still healing. And at the moment everything around him, was a reminder of her. 

Harold looked across at John, a soft smile forming when he saw his guard's bowtie was cricked. "Seriously Mr. Reese."

"Technically, that should be Agent Reese." He pointed out for the hundredth time, though he preferred it when he called him John. 

The President ignored him while he straightened the tie. "Do they not teach you how to tie a bowtie in Secret Service school?"

Reese smirked at him. "I only dress up for special occasions."

"Now that I think about it, I've never seen you in a regular tie." Harold stepped back and studied him, his hand sliding down the elegant black tuxedo. "Isn't that against regulations?"

"A tie can be used as a weapon. When I choked my boss with his, he agreed I didn't need to wear one." He shrugged, trying to act casual while taking in the attention like a sponge. He was glad Shaw had already left, or she would've mocked him. 

"Are you sure you weren't recruited from the CIA?" The President moved away, grabbing his cufflinks, only to drop one.

John bent down to pick it up, and then slipped it through the material, sealing it shut. "I would have to kill you if I told you."

Harold smirked. "Okay, let's do this."

They easily moved through the hotel, down into the garage and into the waiting limo that stood waiting, dark and looming. The Presidential limo was lined with steal, the windows were bullet proof, and the undercarriage could run over an explosive device and keep going. There was a reason it was called 'The Beast'. 

As they traveled through New York, Harold smiled at John. "By the way the tuxedo fits you perfectly, Mr. Reese."

"Your tailor did exceptional work. I can easily move in it, and hide my weapons." He smirked over at the President. "Thank you."

"For what?" He asked curiously.

"He told me you paid for it, or I should say Ingram did, as your accounts are frozen at the moment." John slid a hand over the jacket front the material was high quality. He had never owned anything so rich in texture.

"I know I'm not supposed to." Harold blushed lightly. "But you dampened my style in those cheap suits."

John laughed lightly, before turning serious. "Remember Harold, at any time tonight if I say you're leaving, you're leaving." He nodded in understanding. "I will be by your side the whole night, Tully and Joey won't be far off."

"You really think something is going to happen?" He studied his guard for a few moments, and with a snort he turned and watched as IFT came into focus. "Of course you do."

"Remind me, after you've retired, to tell you how many times something almost happened." John shifted in his seat as they came to a stop. He took a few seconds, opened the door, and stepped out. Tully and Joey settled on either side, back to Harold as they scrutinized the crowd.

"I'm sure I don't want to know." Harold muttered, as he stepped out of the vehicle into the chaos of his life. He put on a smile, and waved at the crowds. He felt John's tap on the back of his shoulder, indicating he could move forward. 

This was the one thing he would never get used to. 

The push of the crowds.

The flash of lights.

The yelling.

In the beginning, he had only gotten through these events with Grace holding his hand. Now it was because John was right behind him. He sighed in relief when they entered the IFT Lobby, where he felt more at home than he did at the White House. Harold's smile turned real when Nathan slid next to him, bumping his shoulders. "Welcome home."

"Can I go hide in my server room?"

"Harold!" He smiled at his friend, wrapping an arm around his shoulders suddenly glancing back to make sure John wasn't going to hurt him. "And ignore all your adoring fans?"

"I'm good with it." John commented softly, pulling a smirk from Harold. "Easier to protect."

Nathan gave him a mock glare. "You know there are rumors going around that they're going to make it into a museum." He held out his hand, waving it around as if reading a plaque. "This is where it all began or where Harold Finch hid from the world before he got pulled out kicking and screaming into the White House."

"I will one day get my revenger for that." Harold muttered, as they moved out of the lobby, and up to the second floor ballroom. He stopped at the door, waiting for the announcement of his arrival. 

It took him back to a much quieter time. 

He had seen the ballroom, decorated for Christmas parties, retirement parties, and even his own wedding reception. He remembered dancing with Grace after most of the guests had left, Nathan sitting quietly watching with so much happiness and sadness. He remembered kicking off his campaign to be New York Senator from the stage. It would be the first time he walked into the room, in over fifteen years, without Grace next to him.

"You'll be fine, Harold." John whispered in his ear before stepping into his position.

"Ladies and Gentleman, The President of the United States!"

That was his cue.

With a deep breath and an encouraging touch from John he stepped through the door.

***

So far the night had sucked.

Well that wasn't exactly true, it was beautiful, glorious, and the perfect tribute to Grace. 

But it still sucked.

Harold was sure there were at least dozens of photos of him wiping tears from his eyes. Periscope Live feed of him choking in the middle of his speech dedicating his favorite painting Grace had done of his father to the auction. And the hashtag #ThePresidentbrokemyheart was trending on Twitter. 

No, really, the night sucked.

He probably would've broken down somewhere in a corner if it weren't for the fact John hadn't moved two steps from him. Most of those who had stopped to talk to him, and tell him stories of how Grace inspired them, or how much they admire him for what he's doing, ignored John's presence. The Secret Service was gifted with the ability to not be seen, yet intimidate all at the same time. When one patron had stepped too close, making Harold uncomfortable, John placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back. When she blinked at him, ready to give him a lashing for daring to touch her, Carter moved in between them, and escorted the woman away.

Harold had to admit John's team was exceptional.

"How are you doing, Uncle President?" Will smiled at him, sensing he was at his wits end.

"I've had better nights." Harold pulled his nephew into a hug. He hadn't had a chance to talk to him all evening. "You finally cut your hair."

"You finally got new glasses." Will held him tightly for a moment, glancing over to the Secret Service guard, who was softly smiling at the scene. "I came to warn you."

"Oh no. Nathan found a new girlfriend."

Will laughed heartily, taking a few moments to calm down before answering his Uncle's question. "Not that I know of, it would seem all we need to do was make sure he had so much work to do he didn't have time to flirt."

Harold snorted, shaking his head. "So what's this dire warning?"

"Dad's unveiling Grace's official portrait of you." Harold's smile faded, making Will to step closer. "He wanted it as a good surprise, but I know you haven't seen it, especially as it was the last …"

"Thing she painted." Harold stepped away from Will, closer to John, needing his calm influence. He knew his guard couldn't actually do anything in public or on duty, but feeling the warmth of his body was enough. She finished it a few days before the park dedication. Harold had been in Japan for a meeting he didn't even remember. She hadn't needed him to sit for her. Grace only smiled and said she had all his good parts memorized. 

When he finally stepped into her offices, heading for her Art Room, it was sitting in the corner with a cover over it. Her Chief of Staff, had seen his reaction, and quietly called Nathan, and with him came John. The two got him out of the offices, and he never thought of the painting again.

"It will be an honor for her to have a painting in the National Hall of Presidents." Will tried to reassure him. 

Harold nodded. "Yes." He nodded again, and took a deep breath. "Yes it will be an honor for her and for me." He reached out and took Will's hand, giving it a squeeze. "I know I haven't said it much, but I am proud of you, Will. You've done so much with IFT and have become an exceptional young man."

"Despite not becoming a doctor?"

He pulled him into a hug, whispering in his ear. "Your dad is proud."

"I know." He kissed the top of Harold's head then stepped back. "I should thank you." He glanced at John. "For taking good care of him."

"It's my job." John nodded, having listened in, but keeping a distance.

"Yeah it's more than that, or at least social media thinks so." Will winked at Harold. "You should look up The President and The Suit."

"What?" Harold stared at him, and even John's attention suddenly focused on the younger Ingram. "Will?"

"Not now, Dad's doing his thing." Will turned around and made his way across the room to stand next to his father. 

Harold glanced at Reese, who shrugged, when The President focused on Nathan, John tapped his earpiece. "Anyone know what that was about?"

 _'No.'_ Tully muttered, Reese knew he was good at lying, considering his previous employment.

 _'No.'_ Lionel at least sounded like he didn't know anything.

 _'I wasn't going to mention anything,'_ He could tell Carter was smirking.

 _'Andrea may have mentioned something.'_ Joey was out right snickering.

 _'You two are hopeless.'_ Reese could always count on Shaw for input.

He focused back on the task at hand, stepping closer to Harold, knowing the next few moments wasn't going to be easy. The whole night had been hard on the President, but he could tell it had also been good for him. 

Tully and Joey, pushed back the crowd letting Harold move forward as the cover was taken off to reveal the Presidential Portrait. 

It captured him perfectly. 

He was in his favorite dark brown three-piece suit, with the yellow pocket square as a splash of bold color. She had him sitting in one of his favorite wing back reading chairs, holding a book in his hand. Next to him, was a small table, with a cup of tea, a stack of books, and a tablet. Grace expressed his love for books and technology, while showcasing him as a dignified President.

Harold didn't care if there were tears in his eyes. 

This will hang in a museum for generations, a perfect testimony of his love for his wife, and her love for him. 

"Thank you, my darling." He looked heavenward, and then smiled over at Nathan. "Thanks."

 _'Something's wrong.'_ Carter's voice pulled all of them into hyper alert _. 'Tully, older man two o'clock from your position, in a dark grey suit, that looks about four decades out of date.'_

 _'Greying beard.'_ He answered, shifting his field of vision. The moment the man turned, warning bells went off. _'We have a threat.'_

 _'What is it?'_ Shaw demanded. _'I'm moving towards the ballroom.'_

 _'It's our friendly Senator Aide, who's on the no entry list for any event.'_ Daniel glanced towards Joey. _'Keep me covered.'_

 _'On your six.'_ Joey stepped into a position that would cover his partner yet let him watch the President.

Tully moved around the room, easily sliding in between people, who were admiring the painting. He made a full circle, settling next to Joey, taking point. _'There are two others that I recognize, I'm sure they are part of the Freedom Fighter Militia group.'_

_'How the hell did they get through security?'_ Reese asked, stepping closer to Harold, his hand reaching for his elbow. "Mr. President I would suggest we start moving towards the exit."

Harold glanced at him startled, but nodded.

Nathan looked between them, and turned to see his own Security Detail moving closer. He normally didn't have Secret Service Agents, unless there was a serious threat not just to the President but also his staff. When he was informed of the small four-man team who would be escorting him to the event, he knew there were some serious threats. With a nod, he smiled at his best friend, letting him know he understood. "Well it might be time for all good Presidents to get some rest, I'm sure this has been an emotional night."

"Thank you, Nathan." He took his hand and squeezed it, before slipping closer to Reese, bracketed by Tully. "What's going on?" He asked quietly.

"Just follow our lead, Mr. President." John nodded, as Joey began to move people out of the way, as they headed for the kitchen and their exit.

 _'Gun!'_ Carter's voice bounced across the room and through their communications. 

_'How the fuck did these asshats get weapons into the event?'_ Lionel cursed as he moved in with Carter to take down the gunmen. 

People began screaming and panicking.

John stepped in front of The President, as the now familiar Senator Aide tried to block his path. "I'm doing this for the good of my country."

Reese didn't hesitate, he took two steps forward ripped the gun out of his hands, slammed it back into his face, knocking him flat. He then turned the weapon around, took two shots, bringing down the Aide's backup. 

_'Evacuate all personal.'_ He ordered across the now open channels. _'Shaw move into position…'_

_'Hello puppy.'_

John froze, his hand reached behind him, pulling Harold close to his side. Tully and Joey moved in, surrounding him.

Her voice grated on every one of his nerves. _'I have to admit, I am impressed, John. Your team is very efficient. Too bad everyone else isn't.'_

An explosion rocked the entrance to IFT, shaking the building, sending the room into a blind panic. A secondary explosion destroyed the staircase that led up to the ballroom, along with the balcony and main doors. 

Tully grabbed The President shoving him onto the floor, with Joey standing over them, weapon raised. 

Reese stood stock still, taking everything in around him.

People were dead and dying.

There were screams of fear and terror. 

Carter and Fusco were in a shootout with gunmen, along with other Secret Service. Two of his men fell, before Joss took the headshot. 

Ingram's security had him against the wall, moving towards the kitchen. The first agent fell, the second took a shot to his vest, but took out the shooter. They kept Nathan against the wall, for safety. He pulled up the semi- and aimed, when Shaw came from behind, slit one gunmen's throat with a kitchen knife, and shot the other in the back of the head.

She ordered them to get Ingram out. Reese only hoped Will Ingram was not one of the bodies on the floor. His eyes caught the Presidential Portrait, lying on the ground, frame broken, yet unscathed by the violence. 

Shaw headed straight for them, he noticed she had kicked off her heels and was wearing combat boots. He wouldn't be surprised if Joss did the same, he always thought it was hilarious that the movies had woman running in heels and kicking ass.

It was one way to break an ankle, which why they weren't encouraged, unless undercover.

Carter and Fusco made their way through the destruction, taking secondary point. Giving them a view of all exits and angles, they had to get the hell out of here fast.

"We need a new way out." Shaw growled out. "The kitchen staff is dead as are the guards at the garage entrance. I sent Ingram through the last exit, as a distraction. It should keep some of the terrorist off our scent for a moment."

"The stairs are destroyed along with the front lobby." Joey nodded towards the front doors of the ballroom. "We can't stay in here, there are too many civilians. Any who are alive will be used as hostages, and we do not need to give them the prize."

"We can go through the service entrance." Fusco commented, mind flashing through the walkthroughs, he had taken earlier in the day. "There are freight elevators that lead to the lower parking garage, which has an exit on the other side of the block."

_'Protocol number three on the Secret Service handbook.'_ Root gleefully pointed out. _'I read your rule book.'_

"Fuck off bitch." Shaw pulled her communications and tossed them on the ground, stomping on it. The rest followed suit. 

"We're compromised." Reese growled low in his throat. "She's got eyes and ears on everything in this building. We have to assume she's controlling everything."

"I'm pretty sure there are more militia, freedom fights, or you know terrorists, still running around. Who the fuck does this shit!?" Shaw demanded. 

"She's obsessed with me." Harold pushed his way through his guards. "She thinks we belong together. If it hadn't been proven beyond a doubt that Grace's accident was just that an accident, I would've assumed she had something to do with it."

"You know I get the militia guys, who think their Revolutionaries of old, and ISIS who hates anything that isn't their world view. But this…" She waves her arm around the room. "All this to say hello to your fucking crush? I'm not sure if I should be horrified or applaud. This goes beyond stalker mentality, next time she should try sending flowers instead of bombs."

"Well cocoa puffs has done the one thing ISIS hasn't, actually trapped us and the President." Fusco pointed out, agreeing completely with Shaw. "She's taken out our exit strategy."

Joey shook his head. "This is New York, and not Afghanistan? Right?" 

Harold looked at Reese. "This is my building. I know it better than she does."

"She has access to everything, no matter where we move, she'll see us." Reese pointed out, giving Harold a look, instinct telling him, his protectee was going to suggest something stupid.

"Give me a computer and Root will discover I'm not one to mess with," Harold snarled. 

And he was right.

***

Joey's eyebrow shot up, at the President's tone. He hadn't really worked closely with him, having the evening shift, when he was settled in for the night. Harold was always quiet, polite and got to know his guards, to the point of even asking about their families. The few times Joey had seen him outside a less formal occasion were during these type of events, where the President acted calm and dignified. Tully had told him about the time, he had made the Senate Minority Leader cry, but he really didn't believe him. President Finch was everyone's favorite Uncle. 

He glanced at Reese, a slight smirk on his face. "Is he always like this?" It suddenly explained the Agent's dark moods, mutterings, and massive eyerolls, over the past couple of years.

"Yes." Reese grumbled, glaring at Harold. "Mr. President." Finch cringed, John only used that tone when he was pissed. "It's our job to protect you. Your job is to stay protected."

"I can help, Agent Reese."

"Oh now you're going to use my title." He glared at him, not caring that he was the President. "In this situation, I'm in charge."

"And a good leader uses everyone in their team to their best of their abilities."

"It's like watching your parents argue." Fusco glanced between them. "I might remind both of you that we don't have time for this."

John gave Harold one last glare, then motioned with his hand towards the stage area. "There's a set of service stairs, which leads up to the conference rooms on the fourth floor. They were put in when the President was running for office, made it easier for the staff to get from their Campaign Headquarters down to the stage. It also made it easier for us to move him in and out of the area. It's not used by regular staff, as it's out of the way of the kitchen and other necessities. Once were in the conference rooms, we'll have access to the whole building."

"I remember it," Carter nodded, having been on the original team during the campaign years. 

Harold had made IFT his Campaign Headquarters, keeping everything in the city he called home. Seeing him in the city as one of their own had pushed New Yorkers into voting. In the first time, in almost a century, they had a high turnout rate, giving the unknown Senator a boost in the delegates and polls. 

"It's a narrow corridor, if she has any surprises, we'll be sitting targets," she added.

"First priority is to take out her eyes." John shifted, and before anyone could respond, he and Shaw shot out the cameras throughout the ballroom. He lowered his gun, turned to his team. "You see a camera, take it out."

"I had always wondered if the rumors of the two of you being crack shots were accurate." Tully commented with ease. "I see they were wrong, you're both freaks of nature."

Shaw smirked.

"What about…" Harold looked around the room, there wasn't much left of it after the two explosions. Anyone who could've had already fled, those left behind were dead, wounded, or staying down for safety. 

"We can't focus on them." John's voice dropped into a low and gentle tone. "My priority is you, Harold, always will be."

"Strip the terrorist for gear." Shaw stated as she made her way over to the bodies of the ones she taken out earlier, stripping them of ammo and guns. She then pulled off their boots, eyed them, and then tossed a pair towards Carter. Joss sighed as she kicked off her own shoes, and slipped the boots on. They didn't fit perfectly, but were better than her heels, even if they're practical pumps. "We know the psycho bitch has more men waiting for us, and we need to rearm as we go. No kneecaps. Headshots. Right now we're not in New York, we're in enemy territory with a high priority package." 

"First, we need to get out of here and into a secure location. Then we can assess the situation and plan our way out of this hell hole." John said, and then motioned, as his team fell into position.

He took front, with Tully and Joey fanning left and right. Harold stayed in the middle, with Carter and Fusco behind him. Shaw brought up the rear, as they rounded the stage, towards the side door. She looked up to see a smaller camera nestled behind the podium, with a smirk she gave her the finger, before shooting it.

"Joey, Tully." Reese motioned for the door. The two men moved into position, on the count of three, Tully opened the door, with Joey aiming the weapon into the stairwell. "Clear to first landing." 

Carter moved past him, and up the stairs, with Fusco at her flank. They eased around the first bend and swiftly secured the next floor. "Clear." Tully and Joey moved past them to secure the next landing.

Reese took Harold's arm and helped him up the stairs. "I know this will be difficult, but I need you to move fast."

"I will do my best." He ignored the pain already settling into his hip and leg. He took a deep breath, and followed John up the stairs. The Agent kept a clip pace but slowed his normal speed to accommodate Harold's stride, yet still pushed him. When John settled him against the wall of the main Conference Room he sighed with relief.

"Harold?" John's voice was soft against his ear. "How are you doing?"

"In pain, but okay." He learned early in their relationship not to lie about his physical wellbeing. 

During the early campaign tours, he had pulled his hip muscles moving up the stairs. He ignored it, and gave his speech to the waiting crowd, not wanting to disappoint. The next day they canvased the neighborhood, adding to the injury. It wasn't until he collapsed at the airport, that he had to tell them, his hip and leg were practically burning.

Grace yelled, while the medics checked him out, the ride through the airport, on the trip to the next city, and to their hotel room. 

John said nothing.

He hadn't been sure which one had been worst.

Until the next day when they ganged up on him.

He sat on his favorite round cushion, leg and hipped iced, with no place to go, but to stare in horror as the two set ground rules. John finished it off, by stating if Harold ever lied about being in pain, and he discovered it, he would physically carry him off the stage in front of the cameras.

Grace giggled.

Nathan laughed hysterically when he found out.

John didn't laugh.

Harold never found out if he would've carried out his threat.

"Now where?" Lionel glanced over at them, hiding a smile. He may have lied on the comms earlier, he knew all about 'The President and The Suit'. Lee, his teenage son, sent him the highlights throughout the day. Twitter and Tumblr were in love with the President's bodyguard, and their epic bromance.

The irony was the two never saw it in each other. 

For a moment Reese was taken back to the early days, when the room was half empty. Nathan had a desk in the corner, with a phone, computer and a sign 'Finch for President' with a smaller one under it 'Chumley for Vice President'. At that time it had just been him and Joss who ran the small team watching Harold. 

At the moment it was empty, and completely open. The room was designed to be used as either as a large space, or three smaller ones. The barriers that partitioned the area were pushed against the wall, looming in the shadows. The explosion had brought up emergency lighting, leaving it in an eerie darkness. 

There were tables scattered throughout, with stacks of chairs in the corner, and an abandoned buffet set up against the back wall. Next to it was a pair of doors, which led to a small kitchen, and service elevator that went down to the larger kitchen connected to the Ballroom, on the second floor. 

Instincts had him wanting to shore up the potential threat, along with scavenging the kitchen for any weapons or materials they could use.

There were three sets of door opposite of where they had come from, each one potential escape and threat. There were more conference rooms and offices across the wide hallway, with a bank of elevators on the far left of the floor. One set led back down to the lobby, the other to the upper floors, where IFT held their offices. 

Shaw stalked around the room, taking out cameras as she found them, walking the full perimeter before making her way back to the group.

"Now where?" Lionel repeated eyes focused on the buffet table, having seen the potential threat, much like Reese. "We can't stay in here, there are too many entrances."

"Can we break out the windows?" Joey asked. "We're not that high, we could get the Fire Department to help evacuate."

"Windows are bullet proof." Carter glanced over at him, but kept her focus on the doors. "This was the President's Campaign Headquarters, damn right we had the re-fitted, do you see the amount of open space for a sniper?"

Joey glanced at the bank of ceiling to floor windows on both sides of the Conference Room. He was sure the room would be bright and airy during the day, but right now it felt like they stepped into an action horror flick.

"We can't use the elevators." Tully pointed out. "She'll trap us inside, or drop us a few stories."

"We have no Intel." Reese hushed them all with the command in his tone. "At this moment we need a safer spot to regroup. To find out what the hell she is up to."

"The Coordinator's Office." Harold spoke up. "It's on the right hand side, end of the corridor, tucked away. It will have a computer, and will give me access to everything I need."

"And leave us trapped." John didn't like any of it. They were too exposed, no cover if any gunmen came into the room. Actually he was wondering why they hadn't been attacked yet. 

"It's the only option we have." Harold pointed out. "Let me do what I do."

"I hate to agree, since you're likely to hit me at some point." Fusco smirked at his boss. "But he's right. Joey's good with the computers, but Glasses knows this building."

"I programmed this building." He added, though his gaze was solely on John. "If we can find out where she is located, then we can figure out how to get out of here."

"Stay behind me." Reese headed for the set of doors farthest from the elevators. 

"Always Mr. Reese." 

"What's the plan?" Shaw asked.

"We open them, and hope there aren't terrorists waiting." Reese commented as he pulled them open, letting Tully and Joey step out into the hallway, the sound of gunfire followed them, as they dived back into the conference room. "Or we shoot our way to the smaller office."

"I got a better idea." Shaw ran down the length of the room, until getting to the opposite set of doors. With a smirk, she eased through them, then leapt into the hallway guns drawn. Tully and Joey took a deep breath, and followed her actions, moving as one, catching the gunman in a cross fire. 

Shaw was moving before any of the terrorists could act. She took one down in two shots, a second on the fourth, and the last she cold cocked him with her gun, before kicking him in the chest. Using the momentum, she grabbed his head, swung her body upwards wrapping her leg around his neck, twisting her body as she pulled backwards.

She felt his neck snap, as they hit the ground. 

Shaw pushed the body away as she shifted to her knees, and began riffling through his pockets, pulling out his wallet, a hotel key, and more ammo. 

"Did she just take the last guy out with her thighs?" Tully glanced at Joey, who was staring with his mouth gaping. "Our boss is insane."

"You didn't know that?" Joey shook himself out of shock, and gave his partner an incredulous stare.

"I knew it, but didn't know she was that crazy." He opened the door and moved in, Joey next to him. "All clear."

"You know she failed her psyche eval." Joey pointed out as Reese pulled the President into the office. 

"Seriously."

"She'll hurt you both if you keep that up." John glared at the two of them, sitting Harold down at the computer. "I suggest you go help strip the bodies. At this moment we need all the information we can get."

Harold wiggled the mouse smiling with the computer came on. He put in his username and password, giving him access to the network. He was in the main terminals within seconds.

"She's overridden the elevators." He glanced at the systems. "None of them are moving, though it looks like Elevators 1 through 3 are out of order, may have been damage in the bomb in the lobby." 

"Cameras?" John leaned over the chair, looking at the screen as Harold worked his magic. He had no idea what he was doing, but it looked good.

"The lobby, ballroom, and parts of the fourth floor our out." The President glanced at the entrance of the office, hearing Shaw, shooting out any cameras that were in the hallway, and likely other rooms. "She has access to the rest of them, though blocked out of Floors 62 through 65."

John chuckled. "You're old stopping grounds."

"I designed the systems in that area myself. Root may think she's good, and in reality she is, but…" He typed a few more lines of code, trying to find where she broke into the system, when a window popped up on the screen.

Harold startled, when he saw Root staring back at him.

"Harry, what are you doing?" She chided at him. 

"Getting you out of my building." He snarled at her, going back to his typing. 

"That's not how it's supposed to work!" She frowned, looking upset. "You're supposed to follow the path I laid out for you, where I have surprises waiting."

"Like the guards in the hallway?" John asked, a smirk on his face. "Already taken care of."

"Are you sure about that?" They watched a she stroked a few keys, and when nothing happened she frowned, typing more forcefully.

"If she's trying to activate the bomb on the stupid redneck terrorists, I already disarmed it!" Shaw's voice came from outside the room. "Tell her I'm keeping it as a gift, and plan on returning it."

Root kept her face passive, though John could see she was pissed.

"It doesn't matter." She smiled at Harold. "The game is still being played! It will be so much fun, Harry. You'll see. Now I need to go and prep the next stage." She waved at them, as the window went dark, only to come back up this time with news footage.

"IFT Building has been taken over by Freedom Fighter Militia." The news anchor stood outside the IFT Plaza. They could see the destruction of the front entrance, along with SWAT personal moving victims, survivors out of the area into the waiting arms of EMTs. "So far there is no official body count, but those they have been able to rescue and remove to safety have been sent to local hospitals."

The news showed pictures taken from surveillance cameras throughout the area, highlighting the explosions, people panicking, the arrival of NYPD and SWAT. Footage was now showing the arrival of Secret Service and other Federal Agencies.

"At the moment we do not know the status of the President. He was last seen by his Chief of Staff Nathan Ingram, surrounded by his Secret Service detail." The reporter continued on with the segment. "We have received word that the Vice President has been informed of the situation and is being updated on all potential scenarios."

"Protocol will have him in charge during this time, taking away the terrorist's ability to use the President as a hostage." Carter added into the conversation as they watched it all unfold. 

The reporter put his hand up to his earpiece and frowned. "We're getting something new…" 

There was a cut, and a man where US Military combat gear stood in a corner office, one Harold recognized instantly as Nathan's old office, now Will's. 

"I'm General Morrison of the Freedom Fighter Militia. We've declared this Government corrupt and are doing our Patriotic duty to remove the Communist President and demand a Democratic Election of a new President."

"Someone didn't go to Civics Class." Harold snarked, rolling his eyes. "If there was one thing the Founding Fathers didn't put into the Constitution was a backdoor, in case the people wanted to dissolve the government and elect a new one. Likely they never thought there would ever be a need to. But even if you killed the President, the Vice President, the Secretary of State, and etc … there is always someone to take the position, until the next term."

"We stand by the acts of our Forefathers, and demand to put America back to the glory that it was." He stepped to the side to show a man, wearing a dark tuxedo, black bag over his head. "We have the Communist bastard, and will execute him at dawn…"

They all stared at the screen as it went black.

"But that isn't…" Tully glanced around the room, mind trying to process everything that had happened in the past thirty minutes. "That's not the President."

"It doesn't matter that it isn't." Joss stepped back shaking her head, amazed at Root's plan. The nation would be glued to the news, social media, all watching the Freedom Fighters, all ignoring her. "As far as the World knows, the President will be executed at dawn."

"Which means what?" Fusco looked at his team, frowning. "No rescue? We have to get out on our own, we're doing that anyway." As far as he was concerned, the plot behind it was irrelevant, the situation they were in wasn't going to change because of some asshat terrorists blowing smoke up people's asses.

"It means that they'll likely send in a Black Ops team to take everyone out, including 'The President' if need be. The Vice President is already in control." John glanced down at his protectee, noticing he was staring intently at the now blank screen. "We'll need to find our own way out before they get into the building… Harold?"

"That was Will."

"What?" Joey asked moving closer to the older man, a protective instinct kicking in. He looked so lost and devastated, when before he was ready to fight with them if he could.

"They have Will." He looked up at John. "Nathan's son, my nephew."

Shaw shrugged from her position in the doorway. "Okay, so we have a rescue operation in the middle of protecting the President, while dodging redneck idiots, a psycho bitch, and a Black Op team that will likely shoot Harold before realizing he's the President."

"So a normal Tuesday." John shrugged, giving her a smirk.

***

Nathan Ingram sat in the Command Center watching a dozen news agencies debate about the fate of the President. They were all idiots. Every single one of them, were idiots. He had come to the realization that main stream media were a bunch of kiss ass, greedy bastards who followed the corporate line perfectly.

During Harold's campaign he had fought for every interview, every scrap of attention. When he had started to win, it was amazing to watch the news twisted it around against him. And when he actually won the Nomination, the shock on the anchors and commentators faces had made Nathan cackle in glee.

And now he sat in the back of the cramped command post, staring at screens, listening to Agents who had no idea what the hell they were even talking about, debate on how to take out the terrorist with minimum casualty, and how bad would the publicity be if the President was killed in the middle of it.

"That's not the President." He said for what seemed like the millionth time, then again it likely was, as no one was listening to him. "Seriously! Will one of you fucking jerk offs actually listen to what I have to say. If there is anyone in this God Damn Command Post that knows the President. IT. IS. ME!"

"Mr. Ingram, I know you're upset…" Agent Donnelly of the FBI, put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"Upset?" He shrugged off his hand. "Oh you have no idea how Upset I AM!" He snarled at the group, looking each of them in the eyes. They all just gave him a look of sympathy. "Fuck it." He reached over grabbed a laptop, pulled up Twitter, hacked into the Command Posts computers, showing it on all the screens. Most people tend to forget that he met Harold while they were attending MIT. He turned out to a better businessman than programmer, but he was still damn good at it, not as good as Harold, but better than these jokers. "See this. Even the damn public knows it's not the President."

"The American people do not understand…"

"Oh My God!" Ingram slammed the laptop back down, then reached over and grabbed one of the suits, yanking him out of his seat and took his place at one of the terminals. He pulled up the footage from earlier that night. "First off." He pointed at the screen, specifically at the man in the black hood. Then showed a second piece of footage from the Charity event, that he couldn't believe, was only two hours ago. "This is the Tuxedo the President was wearing, notice there is a vest, and a bright red bowtie with matching pocket square?" He then pointed again at the Freedom Fighters footage. "Notice their hostage as a black bow tie and cummerbund. Also notice, the height. Harold is 5' 8", that person is at least 6ft." He glared up at the morons who were going to save the President from these Domestic Terrorist idiots. "Besides if that wasn't enough physical proof. Where's John's body?"

"Who?" Donnelly demanded, not liking the fact a civilian was showing up the FBI.

"His Secret Service Agent." Nathan rolled his eyes. "Agent Reese, Mr. 'I'll burn the world down if someone looks at Harold the wrong way'. You might remember he got complaints when he broke a few wrists, during the campaign, when a group of overzealous fans got too close, and practically pushed Harold to the ground. Also known as Mr. 'I'll go down in a blaze of glory to protect Harold'. Everyone knows this. The people know this. There are tumblr and memes dedicated to this. If they had 'The President' they would be showing off John's body, to prove the point. And the American people picked that up before any of you jackasses."

Donnelly stared between the screens, noticing the difference in the outfit and size. He doubted this Agent Reese was as good as Ingram was making him to be, so he would let that go. "So then who do they have?"

"My son!" Nathan threw down the keyboard. "They have Will."

"Are you sure?" 

"Do I need to show footage and compare outfits again? Or are you going to believe me when I say I know my own son!" He snarled at them standing up. "I know you have no interest in saving him. Hell you were ready to take them out, even if it meant the President was collateral damage. And you know part of me gets it. We do _not_ negotiate with terrorists. I've had long talks with my own Secret Service Agents, with military men, and many others who have walked this path. But the father in me, wants to hate all of you, for planning to take everyone out, including the hostage which I'm sure is even easier now, as he's not the President."

"Mr. Ingram you need to calm down." Donnelly put his arm back on his shoulder pushing him towards one of the seats in the back.

"You don't get it." Nathan shook his head, arms flailing outwards. "The President is still in there, morons."

"And what do you like us to do?" One of the Agent's asked. He was wearing a cheap black suit, and a cheaper black overcoat. Seriously, these guys needed a better wardrobe. Nathan had seen him in the back, sipping his coffee, looking bored.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Nathan demanded 

"Agent Snow." He set his coffee down, giving him a cold smile. "I'm the one who will be taking a team in, and will deal with these terrorists and rescue your son."

Ingram stared at him for a few seconds, instinct telling him this man had an alternative agenda. "And?"

"And what?"

"What about the President? Or is he still going to end up collateral damage." Nathan stared hard at the Agent. 

"I'm sure his team will keep him secure." He shrugged, not caring at all about Nathan or anything he was saying. "If this _John_ is as good as you state, he'll hole up and wait for rescue."

Nathan laughed, and once he let it go, he lost all control. The tears mixed in with the laughter as he stared at the bunch of idiots. "Harold is Will's Uncle, and he will be damned if he would let anyone be harmed because of him. And he's got the best damn Secret Service team on the planet. War is going to go down in that building, and you're going to be the one fucking it up, because you're going in there all badass thinking you're in some movie, and will get everyone killed."

And with that he turned and left the command center, slamming the door behind him. He looked at his own detail, they were all still recovering, including dealing with a loss of their own. He gave them a small smile. "Know a way we can get a hold of them."

The team leader smirked, he had worked alongside Reese in the Senate, both having men they despised. When he had been transferred to White House detail, John had put in a good name for him. "It's old school, but it could work."

"Tell me."

***

"What are the odds that some government suit is going to authorize a raid into the building, and get their team and likely us killed?" Joey asked, as they moved up the stairs clearing each landing. 

They first designated location was on the tenth floor. 

Their main goal was Harold's office and server rooms, which was the 62nd through 65th floors. There was no way the President was getting up 60 odd flights in one go, so they were taking it in chunks.

One team was moving through the North stairwell, securing it for the President. The second team made their way up the south stairwell, stopping at each floor, gathering Intel. Then meet on the designated floor and regroup.

"I'm not taking that bet." Tully answered, with his back against the wall as Joey signaled to open the door. He moved into the hallway, the Ar-15 he had stripped off one of the terrorists, raised and ready. "Clear."

They had been looting as they went, giving the whole situation a more desperate feel. This wasn't supposed to be happening in the United States, let alone in an office building in New York. Tully hadn't served in the military, had went to the Police Academy when he was eighteen, and recruited from there to the FBI. He had spent almost a decade in a variety of undercover operations. Seen some seriously fucked up situations, stopped some major terrorist's plots, but in all those years he had never come across anything so perfectly executed.

There should've been no way, any of these Freedom Fighters should've been able to get into the building, let alone stay hidden when the Secret Service did their sweep, hours before the event. 

Not many people know how much work goes into securing a building before the President arrives. An advance team goes in weeks ahead of time, tests out security, checks all threats, knows every way in and out. There are at least two canine teams that go in and check for explosions, drugs, and a variety of other threats. 

And that's only if the President is coming in to visit, or give a speech.

If he stayed longer, went overseas, or met with multiple people. The advance team gets bigger and more complex. A situation room will be established, and security will be taken over, and no one will get in or out of the building without the Secret Service knowing about it.

Which asked the question, how did an armed militia group get in the building and stay hidden. No matter how good Root was, she can't control the patrol teams or the dogs. The implication was the one thing no one on the team wanted to think or talk about.

Someone on the inside was helping her.

John moved past them, with Harold following right behind. "This is coming from the guy who suggested we tie the body of the terrorist to a chair and push him out the window."

"It worked for John McClane." Joey pointed out, a smirk on his face. "Considering our boss took someone out with her thighs I figured we were going for the whole 'Die Hard' scenario."

They all stared at him, even Harold. The soldier shrugged his shoulders, a smile still on his face. If it kept the President from thinking too much on the situation, he was willing to be the comic relief. Besides it was how he dealt with stressful situations, it was easier to keep smiling than freak the hell out.

That was for after.

"I can shoot him, and we can tell everyone he died tragically saving the President?" Tully smacked him as they moved down the corridor. 

As they approached the large room in the center of the floor, Carter and Fusco came from the opposite direction, giving them the all clear. 

The floor held one of the few Communication Centers that held Satellite Technology. Will Ingram had upgraded it a few years ago, to make it easier to deal with foreign investors. Harold hoped to be able to access the network and get a message out that they were still in the building, and were seeking a way out.

John hadn't the heart to tell him, they likely knew it, but didn't care.

Joey was right, protocol would state that they would send in a team to attempt a 'rescue', if the hostage died in the middle of it, it would be considered collateral damage. If it happened to be the President, they would emphasize the terrorists and not their own men. The Nation would mourn, he would be buried next to Grace and the Vice President would be sworn in.

John was pretty sure he would be dead alongside Harold, so didn't worry too much about what his job would entail afterwards. Likely he would be buried in Arlington Cemetery, given a medal post humorous, and written down in history as a fallen hero.

Harold sat down at the control center for the room, and began pulling up the system. The flak jacket, Reese had stripped off one of the Terrorists and put on him, was too big and was annoying. But Harold hadn't argued with him, knowing John was right on this particular item.

John let him work, but kept the door open, and studied his team.

Carter's dark blue dress was covered by another flax jacket they had stolen, she was using the extra room in it, to store ammo. She had found a pair of combat boots that fit better, swapping out the ones from earlier. She snagged a scrunchie off someone's desk, and pulled her hair back from her face. An assault rifle was swung across her shoulders, while she carried a Glock in her hand.

"I have to say, the jacket does accent the Vera Wang." Reese smirked over at her. They had settled into a brother sister type of relationship early on. Teasing each other easily, yet able to read tones and moods quickly. He could see she was tense and stressed, and needed a moment to take a breath.

"It's the latest off the New York Fashion Show." She shook her head, smiling softly as her body relaxed for a moment. "Perfect for the Opera, and straight to combat situations."

"I though going to the Opera was considered a combat situation?" John teased.

"Just because you find the Opera boring doesn't mean it isn't a true art!" Harold's yelled out from his desk. "You're just a heathen, Mr. Reese."

"I prefer beer and a good ball game." He looked behind him, sending a wink to the President. "Besides I don't speak Opera."

Harold mocked glared at him, an old argument between them. With a small nod, he went back to work, feeling a little less tense.

Shaw walked up to the group, her cream colored dress, covered mostly by her own jacket. She seemed more comfortable, in her new attire than earlier in the day. Reese knew she hated 'civilian' clothes, let alone ball gowns and dresses. She wore them well, and knew how to use them to blend in or get information, but was more comfortable in the traditional black suit.

"Cameras disabled on this floor." She poked her head into the room, to check on Harold and made sure he was okay. They were all protective of him, despite the fact it was their job. She didn't really have much empathy or emotions to those around her, but Harold had pulled something out of her, even if she wanted to smack him as much as Reese. "Whatever you did, it worked. She hasn't gotten them up and running yet."

He humphed and smirked at the same time. "I built the systems, she can't keep me out of them." He concentrated on the task at hand, not familiar with the satellite technology. All he needed to do was get a line out, so they could call … well at this point … anyone.

Shaw leaned against the wall, and glanced at Reese.

"Is he going to get up the next fifty flights?" She asked.

"He'll do it." John leaned his head back, taking his own moment to re-center himself. "He'll be in pain, and won't complain."

"We need to talk about it."

"The fact someone within the Secret Service betrayed us?" His head shifted, as he gazed over at her. "It's the only way, Root was able to get this many combatants into the building."

"First thought on who it is?" 

"Dillinger." Tully's voice broke through their conversation. "Don't like the guy, never had. Too much of the 'I work for the government and its classified' feel to him."

"He's on low rotation." Shaw pointed out, frowning. "He wouldn't have access to our plans."

"But does have access to our procedures, reports, and communications." Reese straightened up, cursing under his breath. "He's part of the advance team. Does the final sweeps to make sure the building is clear."

"So either he's careless, or …" Joey spoke up from his position, where he was watching the stairwell and elevators.

"Dude, don't you remember that time he made a fuss at the Children's Hospital." Tully shook his head remembering that particular stupidity. 

"Oh I remember that." Fusco snorted. "He kept arguing with one of the technicians, who wouldn't let him in the Radiation Room."

Joey frowned, tossing them a look. "What was the problem?"

"The Technician wouldn't let him in to have the canine team inspect it." John had almost fired his ass over it, but figured at least he was being overly cautious. "It's where they kept the radiation for chemo and other therapies. Only a select few could go inside and that was with at least two levels of security, and proper hazmat gear. They called me down to deal with the situation."

"So he's not careless." Joey muttered darkly. "So that makes him a traitor."

"Which means we can't trust anyone, beyond us." Fusco motioned around the group. "Anyone outside this could be a potential threat."

"Damn it!" Harold's yell had Shaw and Reese moving into the room, guns drawn. Fusco and Tully put their backs to the door, guns out watching for any threat.

"Harold?!" John moved over to the older man, who looked to be panicking. He was pulling out wires and finally just grabbed the unit and yanked. Reese cringed knowing that didn't do him any good. "Harold?" His voice softened.

"She backed me into a corner!" He looked up, breathing hard from the exertion, then his shoulder's slumped. "She knows where we are."

"We're moving out!" John yelled.

The President moved around the tables, heading straight for Reese's held out hand. "I'm sorry."

"It was a long shot, but at least you tried." He squeezed his hand, before making sure his protectee was right behind him.

"There's a gym and rec area on the 27th floor." Carter spoke to John. "Be a good spot to regroup. Between the locker rooms, gym, and the massage area, we'll have plenty of hidey holes."

"Tully, Joey, take the West stairwell, check each floor as you go. Fusco, back Shaw, take the South stairwell." He looked behind him at Harold. "Can you do 17 flights?"

"I have no choice, Mr. Reese." Harold took a few calm breathes ignoring the pain that was already settling into the area. "I will not slow us down."

"If I have to, I'll carry you." 

Harold stared at him in horror. Though he knew John was being serious and sincere. "I can carry my own weight."

"Stubborn." John muttered.

"Pot. Kettle. Agent Reese." Carter gave them both a look, as she shook her head. "I'm sure the President would like to hear about the time, you ignored two bullet wounds while in combat."

"I was saving my men." He gave her a dark glare, ending the conversation.

"They was another unit on scene, you were just being stubborn and almost died because of it." She ignored him. 

"John?" Harold looked at him, with fear and awe in his eyes.

"It was combat Mr. President." They moved through the cubicles, heading for the stairwell, when the elevator pinged. "I'm guessing the Freedom Fighters were tired of taking the stairs."

As the doors opened, John laid down fire, taking at least one combatant as he stepped out of the elevator. "Joss go!"

"We're not leaving…"

"Agent Carter!" John growled out, sending her a hard stare. "Get him out of here! That is an order!"

She nodded, grabbed Harold's hand and pulled him away from John, towards the stairs. "We have to go Mr. President."

"No." He struggled against her hard grip. "What about John?"

"He can take care of himself." She pushed him into the stairwell, but instead of going up, like they would suspect, they went down instead. 

John used the cubicles as shields as he moved around, getting better angles at the gunmen. He took out at least one more, leaving two down and three still moving around the floor. He snagged a mirror out of one cubicle, and a letter opener from another. At the end of the make shift hallway, he used the mirror to peer around the corner and down the corridor, seeing one of the gunmen, he rolled away from the cover, onto his knee and took the headshot.

He flinched when he felt a gun to the back of his head.

"Our boss would like to talk to you."

"Fuck your boss."

***

Harold pulled away from Carter and slammed through the door into the main offices on the 8th floor. He moved down the hall, hand gripping on the low cubicle walls, as he steadied himself ignoring the pain that was shooting down his leg. He fumbled into one of the work spaces, grabbed the chair and sat down.

"Mr. President." Joss eased forward, keeping herself between him and any potential threat.

"We can't leave him." He looked at her, blinking back the tears. He was pretty sure all the emotional conflicts he had been hiding the past few months, let alone in the past few hours were showing on his face. 

"He's doing his job." She assured him, reaching out to pat his knee. She had no doubts, Reese would get himself out of the situation. The man was stubborn to a fault, and never quite knew when to say no or when to give up. It served him well as a soldier, and as an Agent. "It's Reese, he'll be fine and back by your side in no time."

"Let me put it in a way you can understand." Harold's voice went cold, startling her. It was a tone she rarely heard, and never addressed to the staff or any of the Agents, instead mostly reserved for idiots, those he deemed a threat, and politicians seeking pork barrel bills. "We will not be leaving him."

"He's a trained Secret Service Agent." She pointed out, not liking where this conversation was going. "He's also a decorated soldier, and one of the most stubborn men I've met. If I even contemplated for a second in letting you or help you rescue him. He will kill me, raise me from the dead, and kill me again."

"I can't leave him." He shook his head, refusing to budge. "I can't go through that again."

Joss sighed, eyes closing for a second at the emotion in his voice, knowing she wasn't going to win this argument. More importantly it was confirmation of what everyone knew, but no one talked about. Harold had fallen just as much in love with John, as the Agent had fallen for the President. "Oh Harold."

***

Shaw paused on the 11th Floor landing, looking back from where they came. "Was that gunfire?"

"Sounded like it." Fusco followed her gaze down to the next landing and door. He shook his head, knowing that was not good news. "Fuck."

She quickly moved past him, shoving him to the side as she jumped down the set of stairs. Instincts were telling her, something had gone wrong, without hesitation she pulled open the door and scanned the floor for any threat. Lionel stayed one step behind, making sure their backs were covered. As they rounded the corner, moving towards the Communication Center, she heard the elevator ding. Turning quickly, gun raised, she saw Reese being held captive just as the doors closed.

"God damn it!" She lowered the gun, cussing up a storm. She didn't need this stress or bullshit. 

"Do they have the President?" Lionel asked, lowering his gun, but kept alert of his surroundings. 

"If they did, Reese would be dead." She moved through the cubicles, stopping to check the bodies, stripping away ammo and weapons. "He took out at least three."

"How many does this bitch have?" He asked, not really wanting to know. He surveyed the area, taking in the surrounding offices, and didn't notice anything out of place from when they came by a few moments ago. "I'm guessing Carter got Glasses out."

"What the hell happened?" Joey yelled, as they two ran up, armed and ready. "We heard gunfire."

"They got Reese." Shaw stood up, tossing a clip at Tully, who caught it easily and added it to his stash. "I'm not sure where the President is…"

"He's right here." Harold made his way to them, his limp more pronounced. "And I want to know what we're going to do about getting, Mr. Reese."

"Oh hell no." Shaw shook her head, pointing a finger at him. "He'll kill us, raises us from the dead, and kill us again."

Carter snorted. "I already tried that argument, as you can see it didn't work."

"Not that I'm against a rescue operation, with in the rescue operation, with in a major rescue operation." Tully glanced between all of them. "But we don't even know where they took him. If they drag him up to the 'fake' President, it's likely they'll kill him to prove their point."

Harold growled low in his throat, and then straightened his shoulders. "I can find them." He pushed past them, taking a seat at one of the cubicles. "She already knows where here, and where I'm at." He turned on the computer, waiting for it to boot up, before typing in his passwords. "She doesn't want me dead, she wants to be my soulmate."

"The woman gets creepier by the moment." Fusco leaned against the cubicle watching, as he pulled up the network. "I take it we don't care if she knows your digging in the system again?"

"I panicked when she cornered me in the Communications Room." Harold typed furiously, every movement showed how pissed he was. "I'm done with Miss Groves and her games. She wants to play a game of hide and seek, well let's see if she can find me now."

And with a stroke of the enter key, there was a sudden surge then quiet.

"You turned off the power." Carter looked around, eyes adjusting to the darkness. New York was never truly dark. Light filtered in from everywhere, giving them the ability to see as long as they stayed closer to the windows. 

He swung around in his seat and looked at them. "Yes. I'm sure she'll be able to restore in within a short time frame, but right now she has no cameras, elevators, or network."

"She's as blind as we are." Tully nodded, impressed. "But still doesn't tell us where Reese is."

"21st Floor, in Meeting Room A." Harold stood, moving past them, heading for the stairwell. He was halfway there, when he turned and stared at the team. "Are you coming?"

"This is going to be bad." Lionel muttered as they moved in around the President taking protective positions. 

"The terrorists aren't going to kill us." Joey held the door open, as they moved past him, starting their journey up eleven flights. "Reese will."

***

Reese was shoved onto his knees in the middle of a Conference Room. The large oak table was covered with what looked to be floor plans of IFT, along with scattered weapons, and coffee cups. He resisted rolling his eyes at the stupidity of leaving guns lying around, especially when there was a potential threat kneeling nearby. But then he shouldn't be too shocked, these were the idiots who likely had their guns lying around their homes, because it was their God given right to be stupid.

"You one of them Secret Service Agents?" 

John slowly raised his head to get a good look at his 'interrogator'. He took in the standard issues combat boots that could be bought at any surplus store, and the dark green army pants, thigh holsters holding standard 9mm Glocks. He shifted slightly focusing on the flax jacket that covered a dark green army t-shirt with a camouflage shirt over it, the name Franks was stitched above the left pocket. The ensemble was completed with an AR-15 draped across his chest, barrel pointing downwards. 

He gave him a wicked smirk. "This is what is going to happen. I'm going to disarm your men, then tie you to a chair and torture you until you tell me everything I need to know." 

Everyone laughed.

Franks kicked him in the side, leaning forward, spitting into his face. "You might've missed the fact you're out number."

John sneered, whispering low to bring the guy closer. "You might've missed the fact, I'm no longer hand cuffed." He reached up, grabbed his neck as he pushed off the ground. Twisting around, he pulled a gun from the thigh holster and in three shots, Franks' men were down. He pushed the Freedom Fighter into the chair, gun pointed at his head. "So Franks, want to tell me where the rest of your buddies are?"

The lights suddenly went out, sending the room into darkness. 

Franks took advantage of the distraction and tackled John into the table. Reese pushed him back, raising the gun and pulled the trigger three times. He heard the body fall to the ground taking the chair with him.

John stayed still, adjusting to the darkness, listening for any potential threats.

Taking out the power was standard procedure. At this moment, he had to take into consideration, there could be a Black Op team, moving into the building. When he heard no sounds approaching his location, he carefully made his way out of the meeting room, and into the open office space. His eyes quickly adjusted to the light coming in from the windows. He needed to make his way up to the 27th Floor and regroup with his team. 

He heard footsteps, before he saw the shadows moving towards him. Ducking into one of the offices, he waited until they passed, then eased out grabbing the last one in the pack. He put his gun to the back of the terrorist's head. "Tell you buddies to stop and turn around."

"Well this seems awfully familiar." Tully commented, trying not to snort at the irony of how he had met Reese in the first place. The Agent had raided one of the militia's compounds, and found Tully trying to sneak out the back. It had actually helped his cover, being taken down by him, but he had bruises for days.

John click on the safety then stepped from behind his Agent, and looked at the rest of this team. "What are you doing here? And where's the President?"

Harold stepped out from behind Fusco, giving him a wave. "We're here to rescue you."

John's eyes narrowed.

"Did I not say he was going to kill us?" Joey muttered, not sure if he wanted to move behind the President for safety.

The lights suddenly turned back on, jarring the team into action, instinct having them move around Harold. "We need to get off this floor." Shaw pointed out, giving her partner a look. "You can yell at us later, right now, we need to move."

"Mr. Reese you're injured." Harold reached up to his arm, fingers brushing just below the ripped and bloodied shirt. 

"I'm fine, Harold." He took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "We need to get out of here, I took out four in the meeting room, but there's bound to be more around. The area looks to be a command post."

Without another word, they moved for the set stairs on the opposite side of the building, and started the trek up to the 27th floor. 

***

They encountered a two man team in the stairwell, which Shaw and Joey easily subdued. Their looting ways, had finally paid off. One of them was carried an actual radio, still dialed into the Militia's frequency. Reese tossed it at Carter, it was likely that outside forces were jamming frequencies coming and going from the building, so they may not be able to get a hold of anyone with it, but they could easily listen in and find out where they were located.

The team was reaching exhaustion, and in no condition to control the whole floor. So instead the retreated into the gym, then further back into the locker rooms. Reese broke into a first aid kit, found pain killers and activated an ice pack. He made Harold sit in on one of the couches in the massage waiting area, placing the icepack on his hip and forced him to take the pills.

"We can't stay to long but hopefully this will help." He squatted down in front of him, adjusting the ice pack. "What's your level of pain?" John glanced up. "Don't lie to me on this."

"About a 12." He admitted with a sigh. "It was the race up to the 21st Floor."

"A race you shouldn't have done or been anywhere near." John gave him a dark look. "I'm your bodyguard. My job is to protect you, and that includes sacrificing myself if need be."

"I refuse to accept that." Harold shifted enough to sit up and lean forward, hands reaching for John's injured arm. "And while we're taking care of injuries Mr. Reese…"

"I'm fine Harold." He tried to pull his arm away, only to hiss when the President refused to let go. "It's really just a scratch."

"It's still bleeding." Harold pulled the material apart, delicate touching the inflamed skin. "You should at least clean it."

"I will." He eased his arm out of the President's grip, willing his body not to respond to the gentle touch. "Just sit here and try to relax." He stood up, only to have his hand caught in Harold's. "Mr. President…"

"I've got a suspicious feeling that you'll try and leave me here." Harold looked up watching him carefully, looking for the small tell that the Agent had, one that not many knew about. John shifted his gaze only slightly before focusing back on him. The President shook his head, stopping whatever the younger man was going to say to him. "I will not be left behind."

"I'm not taking you into a potential lethal situation!" John stepped back, trying to get his emotions under check. "You are the _President_. I don't know how many times I have to say that!"

"I know who I am." Harold stood up, cringing slightly but determined to have this conversation. "Despite the fact Nathan dragged me into this political bullshit, and for some reason the American public thought I would be good at this, I know who I am. I know what I stand for. I stand for what makes this country great. I am the symbol of all of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I'm its history and its future. So if you think I'm going to hide in a men's locker room, and send others to die for someone I care about and do nothing about it, your insane."

John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm down and not explode at the President. At this moment he was not above tying him to a god damn chair. 

"Mr. President..."

"Don't you use that tone on me." Harold glared at him. "If you leave me here, two of your men will stay behind, leaving both of us vulnerable."

"I'm not taking you into battle!" John snapped. "Screw you and your grand patriotic speech. I'm not sending the man …" He snarled and stepped away, putting distance between them. "You shouldn't even be here Harold."

"No, I shouldn't be. Blame Root and her pathetic childish games." He stepped closer to his bodyguard. "If you leave me here, she'll know."

"Fucking bitch!" He slammed his hand against the wall, and then cursed at the stupidity. "I'm putting a bullet in her head when I see her, fuck a fair trial."

"Mr. Reese!" Harold moved around him and took his hand, examining it to make sure he didn't do any damage. "Do you want to know why I came after you?"

"Because you're an idiot." John didn't pull his hand out of Harold's.

"I've always feared you would die to protect me." He admitted, voice soft, filled with emotion John wasn't sure he was ready to deal with. "You intrigued me the moment I met you. You showed me respect from the beginning. Almost everyone in the first months of the campaign thought me an old fart who had lost his mind and had no chance of winning." He ran his thumb over the long fingers, turning his hand over feeling the worn and calloused palm. "I didn't think you ever smiled, until one day I looked up and you were watching Chumley eat one of my slippers. You sat there for ten minutes letting him do it, knowing full well I was going to yell at him."

"You didn't though." John remembered the moment. The dog was so much like his owner, it wasn't funny, well it was, but no one said anything to Harold's face. 

"Because he made you smile." He reached up and cupped John's face. "It's a beautiful smile and needs to be seen more. Afterwards you talked more, and then you teased. Grace thought it was adorable, and when I won the nomination and then Presidency, I remember her looking at you and stating she was so thankful you were my guard. Because you cared."

"It's my job to protect." He leaned into the touch, eyes drifting closed for a moment. "But you made me care."

"My worst fear has been coming true these past hours. I never wanted to see any of you, take a bullet for me. I bought a St. Michael statue, and I'm not even Catholic, and learned his prayer and pray it every day for you and your team. When I saw you, alone against those men, and I was being dragged away for my safety, everything I've been denying, hit me."

"Harold…" He shook his head, trying to avoid this conversation. "Mr. President."

"No." Finch took John's face in his hands. "I couldn't go through it again. I couldn't feel that pain of losing the person you love. Especially knowing you died for me."

Reese knew this was wrong, that it went against every rule and code within the Secret Service. But at this moment he didn't care. He dipped his head down, lips barely touching, letting their breath mingle. This had to be decided by both of them. He needed Harold to meet him halfway. John moaned when he felt Harold's soft lips push against his own. With a surge of lust, he pulled the smaller man tight to his body. Harold's tongue demanded entrance, as the kiss turned hot and passionate. Without thought he lifted him up and pushed him against the wall, Harold's legs wrapped around his waist. 

Harold's hands slid into his hair, holding him steady as he pillaged his mouth. He wanted. God he wanted. John's mouth was intoxicating and he couldn't wait to feel it on his skin. He couldn't wait to taste all of John. Desperate for air he pulled back, gasping in lungs full, head falling against the wall. Eyes open he took in the beauty in front of him. John's hair was sticking out in all directions, lips swollen, eyes blown from passion.

It was a good look, and he wanted more.

John braced his hand against the wall, the other gripping Harold's weak hip. He knew this was the worst mistake of his life, but he couldn't find a fuck to care. He leaned in took Harold's mouth into a softer, slow kiss. Letting everything he felt show through. 

He then eased the smaller man back onto his feet, but still kept him close. He kissed along his jaw, nibbled on his ear, then licked a path across his neck. With a sigh he rested his forehead on his shoulder, gathering all his strength to step back. This was not the time to give into his passions. Fucking the President against the wall was in really bad taste, and likely Shaw would kill him.

"I'm so fucking compromised." Reese stepped back, his breathing ragged as he wrangled his self-control back into place.

"Then so am I." Harold smiled as he leaned against the wall, willing his own body back under control. 

***

"What do you think is going on in there?" Joey asked, tossing Tully a protein bar he found.

"I'm pretty sure Shaw won the bet." He ripped open the package and took a bite, cringing at the taste. "God this stuff sucks."

"Better than shit they gave us in the army." He ate his down without hesitation. "Should we tell her?"

"Hell no." He downed the bottle of water, glancing towards the locker rooms. "She'll figure it out the moment they come out."

"So now what?"

"Now we make sure neither of them doing anything stupid, like tragically die to save the other." The undercover agent shook his head. "Then deal with four years of unresolved sexual tension. Cause you know sex isn't happening while one of them is President."

"You think he'll go for re-election?" Joey frowned, not sure Harold was up for it.

"Dude. After this night. The America people will elect him whether he wants it or not. He took on Terrorists and won." He couldn't help the smile, Reese deserved some happiness. Though no one talked about, there had been rumors circulating about their boss. Some Agents even asked if they minded working for a fag, Tully had knocked him flat during a training session. John had been by Harold's side, through all of it, including losing his wife. The man was the epitome of professionalism, it took being around them to know how they felt for the other. After all this, if they survived this night and the next four years, they deserved each other and happiness.

"We have to make sure he survives the night, before we start his re-election campaign." Joey glanced over to the locker rooms and smirked. He would make sure that they did, after all he was a sucker for a happy ending.

***

"Team A, will go in through the kitchen, and make their way up the stairs. Team B, will go in through the garage and come up on the opposite of the building." Agent Snow gave final instructions to the teams. "Shoot to kill, there will be no martyrs."

"What about the President, sir?" One of the soldiers asked curiously. 

"We can't let them execute him in public." Snow gave them all a look. "The main goal is to rescue the President, but National Security comes first. Remember that."

"Is it true, the Secret Service still have men in the building?"

"There has been no confirmation." Agent Evans added to the instructions, glancing at his boss for a moment before continuing. "Do what is necessary to fulfil the mission, let no one get in the way."

***

Nathan's team was exceptional. He had met a lot of the Secret Service Agents as he roamed the White House, these past years. It had taken him a while to figure out, exactly how it worked. Like most people he had no idea how big the Agency was, and what their work entailed, besides dying heroically to save the President.

An agent had to be one of the best to be assigned to the White House, and the best of the best to be assigned the President's detail. He had poked around trying to find information on John Reese when he had been assigned to Senator Finch, back in the early days. He ended up talking with the Senator that had him recruited.

Senator Greer had hated and admired the man. John was an American soldier through and through, believed in God, Country and American Pie. Loyal, dedicated and all he ever wanted to do was help people. Everything a good GOP Senator would admire, except for the fact John didn't give a shit who he was, and had no interest in politics. When Greer and his colleague had set out prove they were working hard for the soldiers, it was John and his men who had to save them. John had taken three bullets to his vest, getting his men out. Greer had seen nothing like it. 

When he got back to the states, he made an appointment with Deputy Director of the Secret Service who happened to have graduated from the same college, and had the soldier recruited.

When Reese had been assigned to him, he thought for a moment the soldier was going to kill him. Instead he made his life hell. Refused to let him out to go to the bars he frequented, because it could be a threat. Didn't leave the room when he was discussing under the table deals, always a straight face, but he knew the soldier was judging him. When he voted no on the expansion of benefits to Veterans, he ended up dragged to a VFW meeting, and then to a local rehab center, helping soldiers adjust to prosthetics and civilian life. He may have been one of the few Republicans who voted yes on all bills that helped Veterans after that. If he was honest it was more because he was terrified of John Reese, than a change of heart.

Nathan walked away with the information, that Agent Reese was a freak of nature, and he never had to worry about Harold's safety. He also walked away with a healthy respect for all Secret Service Agents. They served, they died, and it did it no matter the Political Party in the White House. These men and woman died to potentially save someone who campaigned to take away their own rights. 

The four-man team that had been assigned to him off and on over the years, were good decent, hardworking men and woman. When they were heading out to New York for the benefit, he was shocked to discover they were escorting him. He was informed that there was a threat against the President, and as he was going to be close proximity and everyone knew they were best friends, Agent Reese had felt it the extra security was necessary.

He thought the Agent was being over protective.

Now he was thankful for the man's paranoia.

 _'Only the paranoid survive.'_ Harold had been found of saying as he updated their security firewalls and systems every week.

His heart ached for the loss of Agent Trask. The man was dedicated, and damn good at fixing things. His wife had divorced him early in his career, not able to handle the stress. He didn't have family, well any family by blood, the man adopted neighbors like cats.

The remaining members of his team, were pissed and in mourning. The FBI Agents had hijacked the situation, and kicked them out. They knew, like Nathan, that the teams going in didn't care about saving anyone. 

"You think this will work?" Nathan asked as they exited the elevator onto the 63rd floor of the office building across from IFT.

Agent Rose grinned over at the Chief of Staff. "The FBI shut down all communications going in and out of IFT. Even if they got to a phone, or found a radio, they wouldn't be able to reach anyone." She moved towards the glass, followed by her teammates and Nathan. "You stated those floors were President Finch's stomping grounds. No one has been in them, since he left."

"Yes." He nodded, trying to follow what her plan was. "His personal projects, coding, stuff like that was done there. The servers are still there, it is like a memorial to him before he left. I know Will keeps it clean, and servers updated but overall it's Harold's."

"Which mean it's the one place Reese is likely to get him to. It's secured and defensible." She held up the high powered light. "When all communication fails, it's always good to go old school." She turned it on and pointed it towards the opposite building. "Now let's hope they get the message."

***

Harold and John stayed in the locker room for another ten minutes, making sure they were presentable before facing the rest of the team. Harold stayed close to John, part of him not caring what it looked like. He was tired, and in pain. If being near him, gave him comfort screw other people's perceptions.

Shaw looked at the two of them, then at Reese. "Seriously?'

"Not a word Shaw."

"Seriously?" She threw her arms up and glared at him. "Let's hope taking out Terrorists will over shadow the Oh My God the President is gay!"

"Bisexual actually." Harold shrugged, still not really caring. "And if you recall the GOP Nominee already tried that tactic when they plastered pictures of me and Nathan all over the New York Times."

"Wait, that was real?" Fusco questioned.

"Nathan and I had a thing at MIT, yes." He rolled his eyes, not sure what the big deal was. He didn't then either. He had watched in amused horror over sections of the country going batshit over the fact he had a boyfriend in college. He wasn't sure if his honest to God, confusion of why the hoopla that had the 'scandal' die down fast, or the fact the young voters who backed him screamed louder than the outraged religious right. "I thought everyone knew that. He met Olivia, fell for her, and got married. They had Will, he cheated on her, had a nasty divorce and a string of girlfriends since. In the meantime we became business partners and our relationship settled into a strong friendship. I met Grace, got married, and had Chumley." Tully snickered. "No one should be shocked."

"So Agent Reese, are you going to quit your job and become The First Husband." Shaw glared at him. 

"Fuck off." He didn't have time to deal with this shit. "Right now, we have more things to deal with, than my sex life."

"Or lack of one."

He glared at his Second. "Collect your bet that I know you had going, and let us move on."

She looked at each member of the team. "You all owe me, when we get out of here."

"Damn it!" Carter grumbled, looking at the two. "You two couldn't've waited another six weeks."

"Terrorists." Reese pointed out. "Kinda fucked with the timeline."

Harold stared at them, mouth open. "There was a bet?" He glanced at Reese, then back at them. "Does this have to do with the The President and The Suit?"

The team looked at the ground, then at each other, then back at the ground.

"I don't want to know." The President shook his head and made his way towards the door. "If we're going to get out of here, I need to get to my server rooms. I can use my programs to break through Root's system, get a line out to the outside."

They all grabbed their gear, stashed their weapons and moved in and around the President. As they headed out of the gym area, the TVs came to life, each one flickering on, showing the smiling face of Root.

"Hi!" She waved. "I'm pretty sure you think you're being clever, taking out the cameras so I don't know where you're going."

"I hate her so much." Harold sneered at the TV.

"Now Harry, hate is such a strong word." Her smile became condescending. "You didn't get all of them, there were a few I added on my own. I figured you would head for the gym, after all you would need pain killers for that bum hip of yours."

"Oh you fucking bitch!" Shaw started taking out each camera she saw, not really caring if the psycho knew she was doing it. 

"Does she realize how hot she is when she's doing that?" Root purred. "I might keep you alive Agent Shaw, the fun we could have."

Sameen shot the TV set. "I need a shower now."

"Ohhh I should've put cameras in there, oh wait I did." She smirked over at Reese. "I'm pretty sure your boss would be interested in your 'protection' technique."

"I'm done playing your games." Harold stepped away from his protectors. "What do you want Ms. Groves."

"You Harry." 

"That's not an option." Reese growled low and deadly. 

"It's the only one you have!" She tilted her head slightly, looking down as she typed. Another screen popped up, this time showing Will tied to a chair, a bag still over his head. "You see I hold his life in my hands. It's you or him."

"You know we won't hand him over." Fusco shook his head at the stupidity.

"Then he dies, and everyone will think the President of the United States was killed by _Terrorists_." Root grinned. "And then what do you think would happen? Marshal Law? People fearing the government will take their guns. It will be anarchy! Riots!"

Harold listened to her spiel, and part of him knew she was right. If he was killed by Terrorists, the country would demand punishment. There would be call for strict gun laws, which would scare all the other militias into hoarding them. There would be people calling for more security, demanding protection from the unknown. Fear and panic would set in. It would give some the reason to riot. They would blame the Muslims. The immigrants. The gays. The blacks. The unknown.

Harold didn't become a billionaire by the time he was thirty by being stupid or playing it safe. He watched the world, and thought five steps ahead of it. He did the same thing when he ran for Senate, and then the Presidency. It may have looked like he just waved and smiled next to Grace, but he worked with Nathan on his campaign. 

  
There was a second option in this situation.

One he was pretty sure his guards were going to scream bloody murder over.

But it was one no one would see coming.

"Goodbye Ms. Groves." And with that he walked out of the gym, and headed for the elevators. It didn't take long for his team to catch up, all moving into their positions.

"I'm sure I don't want to know what you're going to do." Shaw commented as she moved in front of him, giving him a look. "Do _not_ make me deal with a batshit insane Reese, if you go and do something stupid like die."

"I don't plan on dying, Agent Shaw." He gave her a nod, then turned to face his whole team. "As a matter of fact, after this nightmare is over, I plan on running for re-election."

"Okay." Joey shrugged. "We have to keep you alive for you to do that, so nothing stupid."

"We're not going to like this." Carter glanced over at Reese who was quiet, too quiet.

"I'm sure you're not, but sometimes you have to do the unexpected to get the results." He took a few steps and hit the up button on the elevator. "She's not going to drop us, she's curious to see what I'm going to do."

"What are you going to do?" Tully asked the million dollar question.

"He's going to meet with General Morrison," Reese answered. 

"I have had tea with Terrorists they just disguised themselves as Politicians." Harold answered, as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. "This will be no different."

***

Root scrambled, pulling up her secondary network to figure out what Harold was up to. So far she had predicted perfectly what they would do. Ease him up the stairs, afraid to use the elevators. Let him have access to computers so he could do his 'thing'. Oh she had to admit shutting down the power was unexpected, but truthfully it had delighted her. Harry was playing the game to win!

She knew Reese was a good guard dog, but she hadn't expected the rest of the junk yard squad to be as dedicated. It had been so easy to turn Dillinger against them. A couple of drinks, a tumble under the sheets, a few good whacks of the belt and he was all hers. He gave her their standard procedures and then made sure to sign off on paperwork that floors 19th through 21st floors had been cleared. It was where she had Morrison and his men set up and prep for the attack.

So far Morrison's men had been useless against the Secret Service Agents. They fell quickly during the initial attack, and have been beaten by the roaming pack since. Next time she'll need to find real _Terrorists_ , not wannabe _Patriots_. None of them have the true guts to do what needs to get the job done.

"What are you doing, Harry?" She asked watching the camera in the elevator, until the hot chick took out the camera. "Not like I can't track you."

Her attention shifted to the second set of monitors watching as the Black Op Teams entered the building. She rolled her eyes, as they moved in formation, following exact procedures. Part of her was reluctant to admit that the junk yard dogs were better trained than these guys.

With a twitch, she set the first trap.

***

The elevator came to a stop on the 68th Floor, the Executive Level. When the doors opened, Shaw stepped out first, taking down the two guards in the hallway. Tully and Joey easily moved around her, spreading out covering the lobby.

Harold fixed his bowtie, straightened the flax jacket he wasn't stupid enough to even think about taking it off, squared his shoulders, and followed his guards. Reese was at his left, gun raised, and gaze dark, watchful. 

Carter and Fusco filed out behind them, turning to cover their backs. They made it look easy, though he knew it took years of training and simulations for them to move seamlessly. 

Shaw slammed open the large wooden doors, that led to the receptionist that controlled access to the CEO's Office. There was nothing else on the floor, but Nathan's office, the Executive Meeting Room, a small kitchen and dining room, a private bathroom and spa, and Harold's small office that was attached to Nathan's. Will was going to take another office, but Nathan refused and forced him into his.

Shaw stared at the sight before her, not really sure if she should shoot the idiot out of principle or laugh. At the receptionist area was one of the terrorists, just sitting there looking all the world like he was working the front desk.

"We would like to see General Morrison, please." Shaw's voice went soft with a sing song quality to it. "I do believe we have an appointment."

Tully moved past her, gun aimed. "Now don't be pulling that gun you have sitting on the desk, next today's filing. That would be bad manners, especially as your boss worked so hard to make this appointment."

"I'll have to see if he's available." The guy looked to be eighteen, if a day past sixteen. His eyes shifted between the armed Agents, then down at the desk.

"Oh for Pete's sake!" Harold moved past his guards grabbed the phone and hit the intercom. It was an internal system that would work even if there wasn't any access to the outside world. Nathan had it put in, after he couldn't get a hold of Harold when the towers went down. He wanted to make sure he could always reach him in his office or the server room, no matter what the situation was. It didn't guarantee he would answer it. "Do they not teach kids anything these days?"  
  
"How to be a terrorist?" Fusco muttered, his focus on the doors.

"Obviously this one failed." Tully muttered, before slamming the butt of his gun into the kids face. "He's too young to die for someone else cause." 

"William what is it?" A strong demanding voice came through the speaker. 

"You're 2am is here." Shaw leaned over the front of the desk. "The President would like to speak to you lowlife assholes."

"Who is this?" The man demanded.

"General Morrison." Harold's voice held a strength that demanded respect and attention. "You went through all this trouble to get my attention."

The doors to Nathan's office slammed open, stood in the middle of them was an older gentleman in his late fifties. He wore fatigues, his greying hair was cut short, showing a man accustomed to military life. He put his hand on the holstered weapon on his hip, while the four men behind him, held their automatics armed and ready.

Harold was sure their group made quiet the impression.

Shaw's white dress was destroyed, stained with dirt and blood, she had found a pair of yoga pants in the locker room, put them on, and then ripped off the skirt of the dress. The flak jacket was dark against the pale material, there were weapons tucked into the pockets, along with extra ammo. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, a simple pair of stud earrings glittered in the low light, but all other jewelry had disappeared through the night. The black combat boots, with a hunting knife tucked into one of them finished off the look. It was so Sameen Shaw, it was perfect.

Tully and Joey, had lost their tuxedo jackets, bow ties, and vests. They had covered their standard issue bullet proof vest, with the heavy duty flax jackets they had taken off the terrorists. Like their boss, they had filled the pockets with extra ammo and weapons. 

Joey's white shirt was rolled up, showcasing his 107th Airborne tattoo. He had found a pair of gloves that fit perfectly, giving him a better grip on his weapons. He was holding a stolen AR-15, which seemed to be the weapon of choice amongst the militia. His standard weapon was tucked into the back of his pants.

Tully had taken a thigh holster from one of the fallen gunmen, and strapped it over his tuxedo pants, giving him the ability to carry to extra fire arms. His light grey shirt blended into the flax jacket, making him able to hide more effectively in the shadows.

Joss Carter's dress was still intact, and elegant under the stolen gear. The combats boot stood in contrast to the dark navy dress, but like Tully, the affect had her also blending into shadows. Her hair was out of her face, hand steady as she held her standard weapon ready. The automatic she picked up, was strapped to her back, prepped to swing around easily if need be.

Lionel had lost his jacket, but his tuxedo and bullet proof vest were still intact. He was the least geared up, but had been the most prepared, between his regular issue weapon, he had a secondary one on his ankle. As they had made their way through the building, he collected ammo for both weapons. 

Harold glanced back at his personal guard. 

John lost the bowtie a while back, he was surprised he had kept it on as long as he did, before the terrorist situation went down. The shirt was open at the standard place, two buttons from the throat. The tuxedo vest had become a make shift weapons cache, the way the clips fit into it, he wondered how much his tailor had personalized the suit. He was at ease with the automatic in his hands, and he knew he had at least one gun stashed at his lower back, and other tucked in the front under his shirt. He looked the epitome of a Secret Agent. 

Harold focused on the man in front of him. He stood before him, as the President of the United States. His tuxedo was a bit wrinkled, but it had been a long night.

They looked like they had been through hell, and the day was only beginning.

He was proud of his protectors, and would do anything in his power to make sure they all get home tonight.

"I'm sure we can have a civilized discussion." Harold's gaze was steady, didn't show an inch of fear or apprehension. "I only ask that you let my nephew go."

"And your assassins kill me."

"If they wanted you dead," Harold stated simply. "You and your men would already be dead. Especially, considering they've left a trail of you men's bodies behind us."

The room was thick with tension. 

Reese's focus moved between the gunmen in the background, watching them sweat in fear and anticipation. The shortest one, on the left hand side, kept gripping his weapon, finger moving along the trigger. If this was going to go to shit, it would be because someone shot off too soon.

"Come on in, Finch." He stepped back, signaling his men to move back and into the corners. "Take a seat, let's talk."

Shaw moved in first, gun never lowered steady on the 'General'. Tully and Joey moved right and left, weapons trained on the gunmen. Carter and Fusco flanked Harold as he walked into the room, and took a seat at the small conference table that had been pulled into the office. Reese settled at his left, eyes on Morrison.

"That would President Finch." Harold eyes narrowed, his tone hard and unforgiving.

***

"We're moving up to the 10th floor." Evans sent the signal for his men to move into the floor, and spread out. "I'm finding bodies as we go."

 _'Did the Terrorist's take out the Secret Service Agents?'_ Snow's voice came in through the comms. _'And here I thought they were all that.'_

"No." Evans moved in behind his guys, taking in the chaos around him. There had been an obvious firefight in this section of the building. "The bodies are militia."

The leader of Team B, came up to him, head motioning towards the bank of elevators. "There are more gunmen. Looks like the Secret Service guys are doing us a favor."

"Then where the hell are they?" Evan's asked frowning. "Procedure would state to hold out until help arrived."

"If they have the President with them, he would know this building." The leader shrugged. "It's a known fact he and Ingram owned IFT, an advantage the militia used. They could be using his knowledge."

 _'If they've put the President in jeopardy, they should be fired.'_ Snow added into the comms. _'Leave the bodies and get up to the next rendezvous.'_

"You heard him, move out." Evans motioned back towards the stairs. As the team rounded the Communication Room, they trigged the surprise that Root had set for them.

The explosion ripped through the floor, destroying cubicles in its path, all the windows on the floor shattered, sending glass and debris onto the streets below. The explosion sent shockwaves through the building, startling all of the occupants.

Root smiled at the devastation.

***

"What the fuck was that?!" Nathan startled backwards as the shockwave crashed into the building they were in. "Oh God tell me that wasn't Harold."

Agent Rose glanced down to see debris and glass cascade to the streets below. "The explosion is to low, more likely took out one of the Black Op Teams."

"Well isn't that shame." Agent Stills rolled his eyes. "This Morrison guy is either damn lucky, or knows more than he lets on."

"You think there's an inside man?" Nathan glanced over to the dark building, the explosion caused the lights to go out again, this time emergency lights were coming on throughout the building.

"There is no way, anyone could've stayed hidden in that building, let alone that many, without one of our teams finding them." Stills glanced over at his teammates. "You know, I think we may have better lucking finding the asshole then trying to get word to them."

"Not like they don't know the Black Ops team isn't in the building now." She agreed, glancing over to their third teammate, one of the youngest of the group, she nodded in agreement. They knew he was taking Tasks death the hardest, he had taken her under his wing when she started. "Any idea on who the asshole is that betrayed us and got our men killed?"

"Who signs off on building checks?" Stills asked.

"I'm not sure." Agent Rose, shook her head. "Let's go find out."

***

"What the fuck was that?" One of the militia yelled, as the building shook.

"That was enough C4 to take out a floor." Shaw commented, her gun aimed at Morrison. "Did one of your traps go off late?"

"That's not us!" The tall blonde, who looked to be a used car salesman in his spare time, glanced over at her with nervous anticipation. 

"And why would we believe you?" Tully snorted at the whole idiotic situation. "You blew the lobby and the ballroom, and I'm pretty sure when we toss your traitorous asses into jail, we'll discover the C4 used in all three explosions are the same."

"Why would we blow a floor, no one was on?" Morrison ignored this team, his focus on Harold.

"Because, you know there was no way there wouldn't be a rescue operation of some sort." Harold leaned back in his chair, show a sense of calm and coolness. "Though, I'm going to guess, that your financer is the one responsible for this particular explosion."

"We're backed by the good citizens of the United States." Morrison leaned forward, hands clasped on the table.

Harold was far from intimidated. "You mean the ones that elected me into Office?"

"You stole the election." Morrison spat out the accusation. "The good people of America wouldn't vote for a Communist Socialist!"

"Actually those two things are not interchangeable. I'm actually Democratic Socialist. Not a Socialist or a Communist. Please if we're to have this conversation, we need to at least set a bases of accurate information." The President barely shifted in his seat, as if he was having a normal meeting in the Oval Office. "And before we talk any further, release my nephew."

"And if I refuse."

"You and your men will be dead before you reach for your weapons." Harold sighed. "Now release my nephew."

"There's nothing from stopping you from killing us, so he can stay where he is." Morrison called his bluff, only to startle when a gunshot went off, and one of his men went down screaming, clutching at his knee.

"The President asked nicely." Reese gave him a dark smirk. "Release Will Ingram, or the next bullet will not be in the knee."

"You can't do that!" Morrison stood up, hands on table glaring at the Agent. "There are rules…"

"At this moment, you're wanted by the Federal Government for Treason." Harold's voice broke through the tension between the two men. "There are no rules."

"Then why shouldn't I just kill him?"

"I think we've established what would happen if you tried. Sit down, Mr. Morrison!" Harold held his gaze, not once did he blink or shift. "You've killed innocent people. You've terrorized this good city with your actions. And you've threatened the President of the United States." He stood up from his seat, hands now on the table as he leaned forward, his gaze hard and cold. "What did you think was going to happen? No really what was your plan here? Even if you succeeded in killing me and my guards, then what? The Vice President would be the President. You will be hunted down and executed. You might recall in history, it never ends will for the assassin: Booth, Guiteau, Oswald."

"If I have only one life…"

"Spare me!" Harold snarled at him. "You are not Nathan Hale, and do not impede his honor by committing murder. This country elected me, whether you like it or not Mr. Morrison. You want to change that, run for President." 

"Or better yet, instead of playing military, join it." Joey snarked, off from the corner. "Wearing fatigues, carrying military grade weapons doesn't make you a soldier."

"And what would you know." The used car salesman mouthed off at him.

"I spent six years surviving this country, to protect the very freedoms you're abusing." He glared back at him. 

"You're taking away my rights!" One of the younger men snapped back at the team.

Harold almost snorted, to hear the actual line that Reese had snarked off at him only a few weeks ago, in his argument of how stupid people really were. He shouldn't find it humorous that in this very moment, these morons had proved his Agent's point.

"Can you vote?" John's voice was low and deadly.

"Yes." One answered instantly, frowning at the question.

"Can you own a gun?" Shaw added to the conversation with a smirk as her gaze drifted from weapon to weapon.

"Yes, but he's trying to take that away!" The blonde sneered at the President.

"Can you take your kids to the doctor and not worry about if you can pay next month's rent?" Tully asked, eyeing the privileged white boys.

"Can you worship your God without being dragged out into the street and killed?" Joey gave them a pointed look. 

"Can you walk down the street without fear a cop will pull you over and shoot you for having the wrong skin color?" Carter added, having more than one occasion go to the DC Precinct and bail her son out, because some cop decided he was a hoodlum, only to discover he worked for the White House.

"Can you walk down the street holding your spouse's hand without fear of retaliation?" John finished up the line of question. "You can answer yes to each one of those. You're rights aren't be taken away. What's freaking you out, is that others are gaining the very same rights you held in privilege."

"So this is what we're going to do." The President pulled his shoulder's back, and stood straight, despite the pain he was feeling through his back and hip. "You will give us Will Ingram, and we will leave."

"I guess then, there's nothing for us to lose." Morrison stood, hand resting on his holster.

"Don't you get it, you've already lost." 

Reese saw the threat before it happened. Morrison pulled his weapon, just as he grabbed Harold, and yanked him behind him while returning fire. He felt the impact against his shoulder, then his side, but he kept his body in front of the President's. 

The room was suddenly filled with the sounds of gunfire.

By the time the smoke was cleared, the terrorists were dead on the floor.

"Injuries?" Reese barked out, taking slow measured breathes.

"Graze on the arm." Tully grunted in pain. "Nothing threatening."

"Took one to the vest." Joey grumbled, rubbing against his chest, before making his way over to Tully to take a look at his arm.

"My ass is going to be sore." Fusco cringed, limping slightly. "I'm not even sure how the bullet grazed my ass. No really. No idea."

"The kid Reese kneecapped got a shot from under the table." Carter looked at her partner's ass, smirking slightly. "I took him out for you."

"My hero." He cringed wanting to sit down yet not.

"I'm clear." Carter added. "Shaw?"

"I'm fine." She looked over to Reese. "How about you?"

"Vest caught it." Shaw made her way over to her partner, tapping both bullet holes in his white shirt. "Okay the vest caught both shots. They were aiming for the President, it's my job to get between the two."

"How the hell did the women get through that unscathed?" Tully stared at the two of them. "I know you're good at your job, but …" He waved his arm around. "There were bullets flying around and not one injury."

"Men like them, don't aim at women." Carter shrugged casually. "They still have an engrained sense of women as 'delicate flowers' that need to be protected. Not that there is anything truly wrong with that, but when it comes to combat they forget that the women next to them can shoot just as well."

"I saw it all the time on the front." Joey shook his head. "Hell I did it for a while, especially as technically women weren't in combat, yet held jobs that put them in combat situations. I got smacked a few times, and when an insurgent woman shot back at me, I let it go."

"We use it to our advantage." Shaw rolled her eyes, then looked around, noticing Harold had snuck off. "Where the hell did he go?"

The moment the room was secured, Harold had made his way across the room to his old office. He opened the door, crying in relief when he found Will tied to the chair. He took off the black bag, smiling at him.

"Uncle?" Will blinked a few times. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving you?"

"Dad's going to kill you." Will shook his head, cringing at the spike of pain that went through his head and neck. "What happened?"

"It's a long story." He cupped his nephew's cheek. "Let's get you out of this chair and get out of here…"

"Hello Harry." Harold startled, he twisted around to see Root holding a gun. She was standing in the hidden doorway that concealed the stairs that led to his server rooms. She smiled brightly at him. "I'm so glad you made it this far."

"Ms. Groves." He pulled Will out of the chair and pushed him towards the exit. Will fought against his grip, not moving away from his Uncle. Harold couldn't help the smile, he was so much like his father. "You've lost."

"No Harold." She pulled up a small switch, triggering it. 

The blast sent Harold and Will to the ground. He shook his head, trying to make sense of what happened. He twisted enough to see the door leading to Nathan's office had been blown away, there was nothing but destruction on the other side. He scrambled to move towards his nephew, when Root grabbed his arm, and pulled him up onto his feet. While standing he got a clear view of the devastation of what was left of the other office. "Mr. Reese!" he yelled. 

"He's dead Harold." She dragged him towards the stairwell. "It's just you and me now."

"No…" He shook his head not wanting to accept that he was gone. 

The door slammed shut and he was thrown into darkness.

***

Harold moved down the stairs on automatic pilot. He refused to believe he had lost John. The man was invincible he had seen him face down so many odds, and not just this night. He had read his military records, awed at his heroic actions. He had talked to Senator Greer, though he despised the man to no end, he wanted some insight on Agent Reese. He told him about the time he took a bullet to save his life, and he wasn't refereeing to the time in Afghanistan, but in DC. 

The reason he had got the soldier recruited was because the Senator had received death threats, and needed a Secret Service detail. And he wanted the best, and he had no problem dragging the soldier into guard duty. Agent Reese had worked tirelessly, despite his personal feelings towards Greer, and found the culprit. When the stalker realized the game was up, he went for the Senator. Reese took a bullet to the vest, and one to the leg. But he had stood firm in front of his protectee and took down the threat with one shot.

It was a known tale in the Secret Service, it was how he got promoted to White House detail. His attitude and rumors of his sexuality had him shipped out to Senator Finch. The irony being he ended up in the very job they had tried to keep from him.

When Harold had become President, the head of the Secret Service had tried to replace Reese with another Agent, stating that John wasn't qualified for the position. Harold stared down the man, and calmly informed him that there would be no other Agent but John Reese, especially if he wanted to keep his job. 

A few days after the Inauguration John had quietly thanked him. He just smiled, and informed he would have no other stand by his side.

  
"Oh Harry isn't it great!" She smiled as she pulled him into his once safe haven, and now it was destroyed by her very presence. "It's just you and me."

Harold yanked his arm out of her grip and moved to a seat and painfully slumped into the chair, trying hard to bite back all the emotions that were coursing through him. There was a loop of heartbreak running through his head.

Being told his father had Alzheimer and there was nothing they could do.

Grace and him sitting in the backyard of the brownstone, holding Chumley as the vet gave the small dog the shots to put him to sleep. 

The doctors explaining that they did all they could, but Grace had lost too much blood.

Watching as other Secret Service Agents died protecting his best friend, he had no idea if Nathan was even alive.

The sound of an explosion, and only dust, debris, and destruction left behind.

"Harry." She knelt down in front of him, hand on his knee as if trying to give comfort. "This is a time to celebrate. Finally we can finish what you began all those years ago. Release her onto the world."

Harold jerked his knee from her touch, and stared down at the crazed woman. "What are you talking about!?" 

"I saw her." She stood up, arms spread out before she twirled around, smiling brightly. "What you built here is beautiful."

He glanced around the open floor plan, there were only servers and a few work stations. His old desk sat in the back west corner, the couch still had one of Grace's quilts on it, and the pillows were from his old dorm room at MIT. 

It was a museum, like Nathan had stated, reflecting a simpler time.

"You're insane." He shook his head, standing despite the pain. He was numb, feeling dead inside, and wondering how long before Root would let him join those he had lost. "I have no idea what you're even talking about! You killed innocent people, for what? What do you want from me?!"

"You need to help me set her free. She'll let us be her voice. We can get rid of the bad codes in society." She cupped his cheek, looking at him with such devotion. "We can even help people like you want. I know you care for people Harold, it's a flaw I'm willing to forgive."

"Who is she?" He demanded.

"The Machine." She pointed at the computer. "You were so close to finishing it, to release it to the world, but you stopped!"

"The surveillance program?" He continued to stare at her in confusion and fear. "That was a program I fiddled with while working on the Campaign. It helped me calm down, there's nothing to it."

"But there is! You just need to finish it." She pulled the seat out and held it for him. "Once you're done we can release her, and she'll help us control the population. And since you're already President, I can be your First Lady."

"No." He shook his head.

Her smiled faded. "Harry."

"No." He stood there arms crossed.

Root growled as she stalked over to him, and back handed him across the face. "You will do as I say."

"You have no leverage on me." He straightened back up, at this moment he wasn't feeling any pain, his body had gone numb from the physical and emotional trauma he had encountered. "I have no say at this moment as President, I'm compromised, the position has been handed over to the Vice President. My wife is dead. My best friend and nephew are likely dead. And you've killed the person I've come to love. The only thing left is my own life. And I will gladly follow those I care about into the unknown."

Harold didn't flinch when she raised the gun to his head.

***

Tully pushed back one of the office chairs and climbed out from under the large conference desk. He was very thankful the terrorists had moved it into Ingram's office, as it likely saved most of their lives. He stood up, then reached down and helped Joey stand. 

"You okay?" He asked his partner.

"I may be deaf in one ear for a while, but over all I'm shaken but not stirred." He patted Tully, who glared at him for the bad pun, on the shoulder and made his way towards the windows, a few of them had been blown out. The wind ripped at his hair, as he tried to get a view of what was going down below. "I'm having too many memories of 9/11."

"At least the building is standing." Fusco grunted as he settled into one of the chairs, cringing in pain. Not only did his ass hurt, his whole back was on fire. He had a feeling there would be more damage, but the bullet proof vest protected him from splinters. "I'm going to guess that was not our Freedom Fighters."

"I'll kill the bitch myself." Shaw pushed back debris and knelt down next to John. "This isn't how it works, you don't get to die before the hot sex scene." She rolled him over, frowning at the blood smeared across his forehead and cheeks. "Come on don't do this to me." She felt for a pulse, sighing in relief when she felt a strong steady pulse.

And then she slapped him.

When she went for a second one, he caught her wrist in his hand. "Do that again I'll toss you out the window."

"I would've tried for a kiss, but the President would probably send me to prison." She helped him stand, steadying him as he swayed slightly. 

He looked back up, and did a visual check on his team. They all looked worn and battered, but not out of the game. Carter was the furthest from the blast, and had the less impact. She had scraped down her arms and a cut on her forehead, but overall standing. Shaw looked about as good as he felt, they had got the blunt of it, both their vests had taken the impact from debris and shrapnel.

"Cocoa Puffs ran off with the President." Fusco stood cringing, but ready to go get Glasses and not let him out of the White House until the end of his second term. He didn't care if he had to campaign, this nightmare was enough to get him re-elected, he can campaign from behind bullet proof glass.

"Will!" John stumbled over the debris as he hurried into the smaller office, to find Will sitting up, back against a small couch, holding his head in his hands. "Mister Ingram."

"Oh please don't call me that." He looked up, cringing. "That's my father."

"We call him Chief." Tully stated as he made his way past John and knelt down in front of him. "How many fingers holding up?"

"Two. The President is my Uncle. And my full name is William Harold Ingram." He sighed, hand touching the back of his head gently. "And I got an epic headache."

"Did you see what happened?" John asked, noticing the rest of the team move into the small room. It would be easier to defend than the destroyed office, if something were to happen.

"Some woman came through the hidden door." He pointed at the bookcase that was open, showing a set of stairs that led downwards. "It leads to the server rooms…"

"I'm going after Harold, you stay here with him." John ordered the rest of his team.

"I'm going with you." Shaw didn't even give him a chance to argue, as she made her way across the room, towards the door. She shoved it open, gun drawn as she entered the small corridor. "Clear."

John slid past her, moving down the set of stairs to the landing. "I can see a door, it's slightly ajar. I don't think she's expecting company."

"Let's go say hello, shall we." 

The two agents advanced onto their target.

***

"Put the gun down."

Harold startled at the voice, it wasn't one he was expecting to hear. He blinked and looked over to see soldiers moving through the servers towards them. The leader had his weapon trained on Root, while the rest fanned outwards.

Not to be taken by surprise, she shifted quickly maneuvering Harold in front of her. "I'll kill him."

"As far as the public is concerned he's already dead." The man held up his hand, signaling his men to halt. "So go ahead, the country already has a backup."

"Who the hell are you?" Harold demanded.

"Agent Snow." He lowered his weapon, and gave Harold a smirk. "Now since you're here, and the supposed amazing bodyguard isn't, I'm guessing he was killed in the blast we heard earlier." His focus turned to Root. "You're doing? Like the one that took out my teammate."

"Sorry." She shrugged. "Not really. You were going to screw my plans up, actually you are screwing my plans up."

"I actually think we're after the same thing." Snow moved around the table filled with computers, eyeing the programs that were running on the screen. "You see the American people gave us all the power, and had no problem letting us listen in, as long as they were protected from the next terrorist attack."

"Well I see you've been doing a fine job." Harold snapped at the man. He wasn't sure who he was, but he was irritating him to no end. "What? Were you only listening in on the Muslims? Or the 'radical' political groups like Black Lives Matter? Didn't take the time to listen in on the white boys cause their just good' ole Americans?"

"Well actually that's not my job." Snow shrugged, leaning against the table. "I deal with international conflicts, might want to chat with Donnelly as he's FBI and should know about these things."

"You can't do this!" Harold couldn't believe the next words were going to actually come out of his mouth. "I'm the President of the United States."

"Like I said the country already has a spare." Snow focused on Root, whose gun was lowering as she watched him. "You seem like a smart woman, how about a deal."

No.

Harold shook his head. 

There was no way, he was going to let this happen. 

His mind went back to the weekend after the Democratic Convention. He was at home, staring out the window wondering what the hell had happened. How did he become the nominee? It wasn't supposed to happen, but somehow during the convention, super delegates began to flip and he had won it out from under his opponent.

_He looked away from the window to see John, leaning in the doorway. It was in that moment, he realized how much the man had come to mean to him. He was an idiot not to notice how handsome he was, and his kindness and compassion only made Harold like him more. He loved Grace, with everything that he was, what he felt for John didn't take anything away from that, but he knew nothing would come of it._

_John informed him, now that he was on his way to be the next President - he had snorted at the optimism his Agent had - it was time for him to learn a few self-defense maneuvers._

_'I'm hoping there is never a need, but in case you are trapped or I can't get to you quickly.' John had pulled him out of the seat and moved him into the middle of the room, it was only then Harold noticed the furniture had been moved. It would seem his bodyguard and wife had plotted. 'I'm going to show you a few moves. How to break out of an assailants hold if they have you from behind, and also where to hit them for the most damage, so you can get away.'_

_'Do we have to?'_

_'Yes, Harold we do.' John gave him a smile. 'If they're standing in front of you, poke them in the eye. You can also dig your thumb into the eyes socket…'_

_'Just stop!' He cringed in horror, at the very thought. 'That's what you do?'_

_'No I shoot them, you don't have that option. I'm not teaching you how to shoot.'_

John then proceeded to teach him how to get out of uncomfortable situations. He had never thought he would need to use the techniques he taught him, until now. He might have lost all those around him that he loved, but he was still the President and he wasn't going to let these men hurt the American people who put their faith and trust in him.

He slammed his elbow back into Root's stomach, twisted away while grabbing her hand and weapon, squeezing hard as he kept moving. He then let go, and pushed her forward into Snow, before moving towards the stairway.

He ran straight into a large chest, before he could blink, he was grabbed and shoved behind the towering shield. Harold gripped the back of the suit coat, tears forming in his eyes, as he knew that presence, that smell, that sense of safety he always got when he was around him.

"Mr. Reese." He exclaimed, staying behind him like he had been taught.

  
"Mr. President." John's voice was a low rumble, one Harold recognized as risk analyzing. His focus was on the new threat, gun raised moving between Root and the armed guards. 

Agent Snow stood up, his attention on the Secret Service Agent. "John, it's good to see you."

Reese eyed him for a few moments, his gazed shifted slightly to Shaw who was moving around to cover him against the other gunmen if need be. He could tell she was keeping watch on Root. 

"Mark."

***

"I don't like this." Tully shook his head. "They've been gone too long."

"What do you suggest?" Joey asked, as antsy as his partner. "We can't leave him alone."

"There's another entrance." Will spoke up, watching the two of them. "We can take the stairs down three flights, I have the codes to get into the area. Uncle Harold had a few floors assigned to him, those stairs lead to his main work area, but he had more stations and servers."

"We could get in and then move back up, without anyone knowing where there." Carter saw where he was going. "Fusco you stay here with Mr. Ingram…"

"I have the codes." Will stood up, giving them all a look. "I go or you don't get in, unless one of you can break through a sixteen key random alpha numerical locking mechanism."

"Are we sure he's not Harold's?" Fusco shook his head wondering who would shoot them first, any remaining terrorists, Reese, Shaw, or the President asking either of them to do it.

"I'm so going to regret this." Carter shook her head, then waved her hand towards the door. "Show us the way, and you get to explain to the President and the Suit, why you're with us."

Will smirked, as he headed for what was left of the CEO's office. It looked like IFT was going to get a major overhaul, and if he had anything to say about it, the government was going to pay for it. 

***

"You know him?" Shaw asked. At the moment she wasn't sure what the threat was beyond Root. The woman was watching her intently, while trying to move out of the line of fire. Shaw just gave her a look. "Stay right where you are, you crazy bitch."

"Oh you say the nicest things." Root winked at her, but didn't lower her own gun.

"John?" Her voice held the question, though she didn't look at her partner. "Say the word."

"Mark here is CIA." John made sure to keep himself between any threat and the President. "He tried to recruit me, almost accepted, until I was kidnapped by Senator Greer and the Secret Service. Greer was on the Intelligence Committee, so I had a few run-ins, since then."

"I knew you were CIA." Harold whispered behind his back, making John smirk softly. "You were too good at the sneaky around, not to be a spy."

"So what does the CIA want with some old servers?" Shaw wondered out loud. "And does your team, know what your deal is or they just following orders?"

"They work for me."

"So that makes them a threat as much as you." She wasn't exactly sure how they were going to get out of this situation. They could move slowly back up the stairs, but they were still stuck in the damn building. The CIA didn't care if they killed the President as long as the 'National Security' was secured.

"CIA isn't supposed to work on US Soil." Harold spoke up, peaking around John. "So I'm going to guess that it doesn't matter what is said or done here, we're all going to be dead."

"I'm willing to make a deal." Mark stayed relaxed, leaning against the table. "All we want is the program. It will help us keep America safe from Terrorists."

"As said before, you're doing a fine job so far." Harold rolled his eyes. "There is no program. I'm not sure what Ms. Groves has been telling you, but it's a small security system I built for the building. It's not capable of what you want it to do."

"I can finish it for you." Root spoke up. If working for the spooks would give her access to the program and let her build it to what she deserves to be, she could do that. "But you'll have to kill the Agents and let me have Harold."

Two gun shots rang out.

Harold flinched, hands gripping onto John's jacket, ducking behind his guard. When the body didn't stumble or move, he peaked back around to see Root lying on the floor, one shot to the chest the other to the head. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel.

Relief.

Regret.

Both. 

He looked from the body to Agent Snow, he didn't seem fazed by the situation. "I guess that deal is off the table."

"Your move." John held his weapon steady, aimed directly at Mark. 

The tension in the room was thick. Snow's men, had their weapons trained on both Secret Service Agents, while their weapons were aimed directly at the Snow. They were all either going to die, or come to an understanding.

"Pointing a weapon at the President is a treasonable offense." Carter snarled into the ear of the team lead. "Tell you're men to put their weapons down."

The team leader looked around to see Tully and Joey, on either side, putting his men into a deadly crossfire. These men had lived through hell these past hours, they had killed to protect the President, and they would continue to do so. 

He raised his hand and gave the signal.

Agent Snow could take it up with the Secret Service, he wasn't risking his men's lives or jail time.

"How about a new deal." Harold stepped out from behind Reese, his focus on the CIA Agent. "I'm sure no one is going to believe me if I say the CIA tried to kill me." He paused, tilted his head slightly. "Okay there are some conspiracy enthusiasts that would, but overall, you know and I know that nothing will come of this."

"If you say it doesn't work what harm is handing it over." Snow glanced down at the computer, then back up at the President.

"Because the very thought someone like you or your boss could have that much control, scares the shit out of me." The President, painfully limped over to the computer, glaring at the Agent

"Move to the side." Reese gestured with his gun.

Snow moved out of the way, sighing in exasperation at the situation. "Your talent was wasted being a guard dog."

"The benefits are better, and I don't have to work with you." John snarked.

Harold quickly accessed his terminals, locating the program that started this whole nightmare. It wasn't even the one he had given to Reese to use at the White House. It was an upgraded security program that watched over the IFT Building. It cataloged everyone who came in and out, pulled up either employee records for those who worked in the building or relevant public information for those that didn't. It accessed social networks, police records, and pertinent databases to check if anyone was threat to the security of the building.

A user interface had to pull up the information it stored, whether to check to see if someone was conducting corporate espionage or background checks on new employees. 

As he accessed it, he started to see coding that wasn't his. At first he thought it was Root enhancing it, until he realized the system was locked, and hadn't let anyone into it.

Until now.

The further he dug, the more concerned and awed he became. The system had grown, wrote its own code, and expanded its perimeters. It was functioning on its own accord.

_'Systems upgraded'_

Harold startled sitting back, and stared at the screen.

_'Security enhanced'_

He dove deeper into the systems, trying to figure out exactly how this happened. The hysterical laughter was on the brink, when he found the section of his own coding, that he had written the night of the election. He had coded in instructions to take care of itself as he was going to be running the country.

It took that as part of its programming and ran with it.

Holy shit.

It did work.

Right now it was contained in the IFT Building. The very thought that this could go across the Nation. No control. No perimeters.

"Harold?" John's voice was soft in his ear. "What's wrong?"

"It works." He whispered quietly, eyes shifting to look at John's profile who was reading the screen. "If the CIA got a hold of this…"

Reese knew this was going to go to shit in seconds. As he straightened up, his gaze moved around the room. His team was focused intently on the situation, and it only took a small motion with his head, to put them on full alert.

As he turned, making sure his body covered Harold, he wasn't surprised to come face to face with Snow's gun. Nor was he surprised to see Shaw's weapons pointed at the Agent.

_'Threat detected'_

Harold typed furiously on the keyboard, knowing he didn't have much time. He wasn't sure what he was doing, at the moment he was relying on instincts.

_'Protect Admin'_

And with that last line – the computer shut down.

All the screens went black.

The lights went out.

Gunfire erupted.

***

Shaw got two shots off, as Snow got off his one. She dove behind the tables and computers, while taking aim, forcing him to move away from John and Harold. As John shoved the President onto the floor and under the desk, she moved around the back to pull him out. 

Except, in typical fashion, he wouldn't go.

Instead he had a keyboard in his lap typing furiously. "We've got to go."

"No!" He yanked out of her grasp. "Whatever this program is, I'm trying to make it understand that you're not threats."

"Unless it has a gun, it's not a threat to us!" She tried to grab him again. "Mr. President!" Her tone was that of the one John used to get his attention when he was too far up into his own head. "We're in the middle of a shootout. Unless it's sending a missile into this building, it's the least of our problems."

Harold looked at her, then down at the keyboard before tossing it onto the floor. "Where is Mr. Reese?"

"Kicking CIA ass." She pulled him out from under the table, and helped him stand, just as Tully and Joey, surrounded them. "About time you two got here."

"Wannabes got in the way." Joey muttered, still firing at the government agents. "When we were trained for this, not one scenario came up that we would be in a firefight with our own men."

"These aren't our men." Tully pointed out, laying ground cover, so Carter could move behind a set of servers for a better angle. "This is hired help, who are no better than the assholes we dealt with upstairs. These guys just get paid by the government."

"My taxes dollars at work!" Joey cried out, as a bullet slammed into his shoulder, lucky the vest caught it, pushing him back. He snarled at the bruise it was going to leave and released a hail of bullets back at the shooter. "Are we done with this shit yet?"

They heard Carter grunt, before she fell backwards into the line of fire of the last remaining Black Ops Team. Shaw shoved Harold between her two men, moving towards the threats, gun raised, when two shots came out of nowhere killing both soldiers.

She looked over to see Fusco standing there, gun raised, and Will Ingram right behind him. He made his way over to his partner, kneeling down in front of her, checking her wounded leg. "I've always got your back."

"Never doubted it." She smirked at him, then glared up at the younger man. "Didn't we tell you to stay put?"

"I don't recall that." He looked over to see Harold between two of the guards. "Uncle!?"

Harold barely registered his nephew's presence instead his focus was on John, who was in a physical fight with Agent Snow. Both men had lost their guns, and were evenly matched as they traded blows. 

His eyes widened as Mark grabbed John's throat squeezing tightly as he pushed him back against the large windows that had always given Harold piece of mind to look out and see the city he loved. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shaw raise her own weapon, taking a few breathes ready to pull the trigger, when John shoved his knee into Snow's stomach, pulled back, and twisted. His hand grabbed the Agent's arm, using his own momentum turned and slammed him into the glass. 

In a shocking moment that could only come from the movies, the glass shattered, having been weakened by the hail of bullets that had been flying in the area. As Mark scrambled trying to find purchase, he latched onto John. The two stumbled closer to the ledge, the wind whipping around them as gravity worked against them. Reese jerked backwards, trying to pry Mark's fingers from his suit sleeve, cursing as he was still being dragged closer to the opening.

Hands grabbed him, yanking him back. When his right arm was pulled from the coat, he twisted away letting himself be dragged from the window and out of the well-tailored tuxedo jacket. Stumbling to the ground, breath ragged as he watched Mark fight with the material before he lost the battle and fell.

Everyone stood perfectly still staring out the window, ignoring the cold wind as it blew into the building, all in shock at what had just happened. 

"This would be that perfect moment for the Ode to Joy to play."

All of them glared at Joey, who was standing there, gun resting in his hands, blood dripping down his arm and the side of face. He had a grin a mile wide, and unrepentant expression.

"Oh come on! You were thinking it. Bad guy falls out of large office building. At least I didn't say …"

"Don't." Tully laid his hand on his shoulder. "Or you'll be joining him out the window."

"You watch way too many movies." Harold shook his head at the younger Agent, though even he couldn't help the small smile. He focused on his friend, eyes softening as he took in the battered, tired and bleeding Agent. "Are you okay, Mr. Reese?"

"I'll be fine, Mr. President." John held his hand out and let Shaw and Tully pull him up. "As we've seemed to have cleared the building of terrorists, I say we head back down and just walked out of here."

"They might shoot us at first sight." Carter stated as she leaned against her partner, his tuxedo vest now wrapped around her leg to stop the bleeding.

"What happened to the radio?" Shaw glanced over at her.

"Destroyed in the blast," she answered. 

"I got a phone." They all turned to look at Will who stood there holding the phone in his hand. "We can call out, right?"

"Why is he here?" John asked curiously, glancing over to Tully. "I swore we left you upstairs to watch him."

"He got us onto these floors from another entrance." He answered easily. "Be thankful! We saved your asses."

"Then let's get the fuck out of here." Shaw grabbed the phone. "We got 60 plus stairs to head down."

"Before we go…" Harold looked at the men and woman who saved his life, and that of his nephew, he will always be grateful to them. But he now needed them to do one more thing. "There's one thing I need you to do."

***

Shaw led the team out of the front of the building, into chaos. 

Spot lights illuminated the debris filled square, practically blinding them as they exited. There were reporters clamoring for their attention, seeking the sound bite that would start the morning news. Cameras were flashing all around them, a few cameramen backed off when one got to close and Shaw grabbed the camera and slammed it into the ground, growling at the guy. Emergency personal ran to the team, asking about injuries, a few trying to move past them to get to the President only to find resistance. Police and Federal Agents pushed past the Paramedics demanding answer to their questions, when Agent Donnelly tried to remove the President from their protective circle – he walked away with a broken wrist, courtesy of Reese.

"Harold!" Nathan's voice rose above the tide. "Harold!" As Tully stepped to the side, the Chief of Staff stopped in his tracks, a cry of joy escaped his lips, and he didn't care if everyone saw his tears. "Will!" The younger Ingram pushed past the Secret Service Agent and straight into the arms of his father. The two held each other tightly, crying, apologizing, and content to know the other is alive. "I was so scared." Nathan whispered into his ear. 

"I'm okay, dad." He didn't pull back or away, he was fine being in his dad's arms feeling safe and secure after a night of hell. "They came for me."

Nathan looked past his son's shoulder to see the six Agents.

They all looked exhausted and bloodied, but they held themselves with pride and strength he didn't think was still possible, but then they were an extraordinary team protecting an extraordinary man.

"Harold?" He stepped slightly away from his son, his arm still locked around his shoulders.

"He's safe dad, but not sure he's getting out of that circle anytime soon." Will chuckled. "They've got some serious pack mentality going on."

Shaw felt a hand on her arm, just as she turned, another explosion rocked the building. Before anyone could react, John had Harold on the ground, covering his body with his own. Shaw raised her weapon, along with the rest of the team. They looked around for the threat only to see debris and glass starting to rain down from above. The 65th floor had been destroyed by explosives, adding to the destruction the terrorists had done to the building and the city.

"We're going to need a lot of repairs." Will commented, from underneath his father, and his Secret Service Agents. 

As the crowd started to regroup, a man stepped out of the crowd, who wore the standard dark suit, and long trench coat of the Secret Service. He took the advantage of the distraction, taking aim at Agent Reese firing off three shots. 

There was chaos as people began to panic, trying to run from the situation, getting in the way of NYPD officers and Federal Agents. 

Cameramen held their ground, recording all of it. They watched through the lenses, as Agent Reese went down under the bullets. His team, moved seamlessly covering him and the President, guns raised ready to return fire, when three shots went off simultaneously.

Dillinger fell where he stood, gun dropping from his lifeless hand. Behind him stood the Nathan's Secret Service Agents, they had avenged their fallen teammate.

The camera panned back to the Presidential team, trying to zoom in to see the body of Agent Reese. When the camera suddenly went black the cameraman looked up to see Nathan standing in front of him, hand covering the lens.

"Back off."

All the reporters were being pushed back by Federal Agents, and Secret Service. First Responders were moving towards the downed Agent.

"Mr. Reese!" Harold knelt on the cold concrete, holding the hand of the man he loved. "John."

Reese blinked up at him, cringing in pain trying to catch a breath. He squeezed Harold's hand, trying to smile and reassure him, but the words weren't coming out. Shaw wrapped her arm around the President escorting him away, so the Paramedics could move in. He was pulled away from the scene, towards a waiting ambulance. Tully and Joey, backed with her, taking positions on each side of the open doors. At this moment, not even the EMTs were getting to the President.

"No…" He struggled against her grip. "I need to be there."

"You're in public." She hissed into his ear. "Right now half the cameras are on you, the other half, are on him."

"I don't care." Harold looked over at her. "I should be by his side."

"Mr. President." Shaw moved in front of him, blocking the cameras while she spoke to him softly. "His job is to die for you."

Tears of frustration began to form. He wiped them away, pissed off at the lack of being able to do anything. "His job is to be by my side. He promised me."

"Harold." She wiped away the tears and got him to focus on her. It was a rare moment she showed any emotion or sympathy, to anyone, but Harold, had got under her skin, like he had the American people. "He's a stubborn asshole. Do you understand? Reese will not leave your side, even if the devil himself came up to fetch him. He likely would shoot him, hand over his scaly ass to an Archangel and keep on walking."

Tully snorted. "Why can I so see that?"

"Besides." Joey glanced over to their charge. "He had his vest on, the reason he was having a hard time breathing, two impacts to the vest can do that, let alone the ones he took earlier." He gave him a reassuring smile. What he didn't want to tell him, was the fact the vest was still functioning was a miracle. "I should know. I've been there."

Harold glanced at the three of them, nodding his head in understanding, while taking a deep breath. "Thank you."

"Someone has to be the voice of reason in this epic action, adventure rom/com." Shaw rolled her eyes, before turning around to motion for one of the Paramedics. "He's had no serious injuries, a lot of bruises and scrapes, but mostly his hip has taken the blunt of the night."

"Sir." He knelt down in front of him. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is your pain." He reached behind him, to grab some of his gear and then focused back on the President. 

"About twenty." Harold answered honestly. "What's your name?"

"Alan." The kid gave him a smile. "I may look like a kid, but actually been doing this for a while."

"Nice to meet you, Alan." He held out his hand, the paramedic ignored the shaking and took it in his own. "I know protocol is supposed to be whisking me away for my safety. But I refuse to leave the scene until I know about Agent Reese."

"I understand, sir." He nodded, having witnessed just the past few moments, it was obvious the President and his Secret Service team had been through hell. The fact the President was only aching from a previous injury showed how much they took care of him. "To what it's worth, he's got good guys on him. I trust them with my own life or that of my family."

"Harold!" Nathan finally made his way through the crowd and to his friend's side. The two looked at each other, and Nathan pulled him into his arms, holding him tight. "I thought we lost you."

"I'm not that easy to get rid of." Harold held him close, relishing the familiar contact. "By the way, start the re-election campaign."

"Oh Harold." Nathan stepped back, looked around the destruction, over to the reporters, and then back to Harold. "You already kicked it off."

There was a roar of applause and cheer, startling both men. They looked over to see Agent Reese standing up with the help from Paramedics and Firefighters. He was arguing with one of the Paramedics about getting medical attention to his team, pointing at Carter and Fusco who was leaning against each other.

She gave him a look, wiping tears from her eyes. "Next time I'll shoot you myself for scaring me like that."

"I'm not that easy to take down." He cringed as he took a few hesitant steps. His white shirt was open, showing the black vest underneath. His arm was wrapped securely in a sling, resting against his chest, a red stain sowing through the thick bandage on his upper shoulder. 

Paramedics moved to Carter and Fusco, helping the Agents to a waiting ambulance. As the ambulance doors closed, the two looked over at their Team Leader, giving him a tired smile. He gave them a nod, and in a rare show of a personal nature, he crossed himself and sent up a prayer.

As the firefighters helped him towards the waiting ambulance, he ended up coming to a halt in front of Nathan Ingram. "You are a hard man to kill." John smirked, then tried to move past him, only to be stopped. Nathan glanced at Harold, a gleam in his eye that told him there would be long conversations later, and then back at John. "For a moment I'm going to be serious, and you're going to take it." Nathan reached out, he didn't care how many photos were taken, or how uncomfortable John was, and pulled the man into a hug, careful of his injuries. "Thank you for saving them." His voice dropped into a soft whisper. "Thank you for loving him."

John startled for a moment, but realized this was Harold's best friend. He stepped back, a shy smile on his face, as he reached up and squeezed his shoulder. "All in a day's work."

Nathan chuckled. "I don't want your job." He glanced at Harold again, then back at John, his gaze taking in the rest of the team. "Get to the damn hospital. So I can go do the press thing."

"I'm not even going to ask why you are still here." John glared at Harold, who was still sitting on the back of the ambulance. His voice was rougher than normal, gravely and sounded out of breath. 

"I was waiting for you Mr. Reese." All Harold wanted to do was curl up next to him and sleep for a week. He had a feeling the nearest opportunity for that, would be after he left the White House. 

John shook his head. "Get him inside, I'll ride with him."

"Up you go." Tully helped get John into the ambulance, sitting him down on bench towards the back, then took a seat next to him. 

Alan made sure the President was secured on the gurney, and with Joey's help lifted it into the ambulance and locked it into place. He climbed into the rig, moving across the extra guests and settled himself in the back, grabbing an oxygen mask, he set it over Harold's face, then hooked a pulse monitor onto his finger. "We need to get some readings." He then pulled out a secondary oxygen mask and handed it to Reese, his look indicated the Agent wasn't to refuse.

Joey pulled himself into the ambulance, shutting the doors behind him, before crouching down on the floor. "Tell you're guy not to drive to fast, I really don't want to end the day, falling out of this thing."

Shaw slipped into the driver's seat, slid open the small window and smirked at Joey.

"I'm doomed." He gripped the handle on the side, and held on. 

Reese reached out and took Harold's hand.

No one said a word.

***

Doctor Megan Tillman was not a woman to mess with. She had been Harold's doctor since he came into her ER after slipping on some ice and aggravated his hip. She had argued with him about having hip replacement while he was a Senator, and glared at him each time his limp got worse over the years.

She stalked through the halls of Mount Sinai towards the ER. The moment she had heard, that the President had been involved in a Terrorist Attack, she had hopped a plane from DC to New York. Being the Doctor for the President did have its advantages, she had privileges in about every major hospital in the country.

The head of the Trauma Unit hurried to keep up with her, and the Head of Surgery was only a few steps behind him. The staff had been busy since the first bomb had gone off treating victims from the Charity Event, and had only started to recoup when they were informed that the President was on his way in.

As she rounded the corner, she put on a burst of speed practically running down the hallway to the closed admittance rooms. She barely registered the NYPD Officers or the smattering of Federal Agents along the hallway and through the ER. 

Megan pushed open the doors to come face to face with two Secret Service Agents, still armed to the teeth, looking as if they had arrived from a war zone. She stepped back noticing two more standing at the head of the hospital bed, she recognized Agent Reese from the many times he had escorted Harold to her office. 

She shifted to look past the two front guards. "Is my patient in here somewhere?" Megan smiled in relief when she saw Harold's hand over the shoulder of his guards. "You two need medical attention yourself."

"Until we are relieved, that's not happening." Tully shrugged as he moved aside to let her past him, taking position by the door, Joey right next to him.

She took one look at the Head Agent. "Agent Reese, sit down before you fall down." 

"I told you." Harold glared at him, until the reluctant guard grabbed a chair and eased into it. "Hi Dr. Tillman."

"I told you to call me Megan many times." She skimmed over the Paramedics report, frowning at the spike in blood pressure and tacky heart rate, but considering the stress he was under it wasn't horrible. "I want x-rays on your hip, and from the pain you've stated you're in, it isn't going to look good." She glanced over at Shaw. "Any injuries he's not going to tell me about?"

"Bruises, scrapes, he's hit the floor a few times, and has been manhandled." Shaw shrugged taking her own seat, exhaustion starting to set in. "Considering the amount of bullets, explosions, and psychos, he's actually doing well."

"All because of your teams hard work." Harold smiled at all of them. "They need more medical attention than I do."

"As we said until replacement agents get here, we're not moving." Reese cringed as he shifted in his seat, he had a feeling there were cracked ribs, maybe even broken. "And agents we trust, I might add."

"The hallway is lined with cops and feds." Dr. Tillman motioned towards the door, as she started to check over Harold. "I got trauma teams on standby, and a squad of nurses who have been vetted by me personally."

Tully and Joey raised their weapons slightly when the doors opened to show Nathan Ingram and his three guards. "Mr. President." He gave his friend a smile, relieved to see him resting finally. He wasn't happy to see that four of the guards were still on active duty. Agent Carter and Fusco had already received medical treatment, Joslyn was being prepped for surgery to care for the leg wound, while Fusco was getting his wounds cleaned and stitched. "It would seem that there's been some communication error." He paused letting his three guards move into the room. "The Director of the Secret Service is on his way, along with extra security. There's a team, moving the Beast from the garage which doesn't even have a scratch on it from the many explosions."

"Love that car so much." Joey smirked. "One day they'll let me crash through a wall just to see if it can."

"And this is why we don't let you drive." Shaw pointed out.

"Like you're any better."

"Children." Reese glared at all three of them.

Nathan chuckled, and then turned serious. "My team, which I know you trust, will take your places to protect Harold, and I won't be leaving his side either. All of you need medical attention."

John was ready to argue when he looked over towards the bed to see Harold sound asleep. He glanced over to Megan, who gave him a smirk as she dropped the needle into the hazmat bucket. "He's not going anywhere."

Agent Rose helped Reese out of his chair, and into the now waiting arms of Mount Sinai Trauma Team, the rest of the team followed behind. All of them were hesitant not wanting to leave Harold behind. 

"I'll personally come and update you with any information." Megan assured the agents, if anything she had heard was true, the bond created between the President and his guards were forever forged.

"I'm sorry for the loss of Trask." John stopped in front of Agent Lily, giving her a shoulder a squeeze. "He was a good agent."

"He was." It was the first words she'd spoken since the first bomb had gone off. "The President is safe with us, sir."

As the team left the room, and began walking down the corridor everything became quiet. The four noticed that everyone was staring, then one started clapping and the rest slowly followed suit, until there was a thunderous applause.

***

Mount Sinai had arranged a private ward, for the President and his team. No one was allowed on the floor, except for those on duty, and they had been specifically vetted by Dr. Tillman and the Secret Service. 

The only guests allowed were family of the agents, and a few members of the President's staff. Nathan and Will Ingram had not left the floor, except for food and coffee. Nathan was taking meetings in a confiscated conference room, after his own staff showed up to set up links with the White House. He was keeping the Vice President updated, who was still at the moment in charge of the country.

Taylor Carter had arrived with his father, to the shock of some of the guards. They had discovered she had been re-dating her ex for the past six months. After coming back from the war, he hadn't adjusted well to civilian life, leading to the end of the marriage and Joslyn taking Taylor to DC. He got his act together, sought help, and became the man she had once married. He stayed in New York for a while, until a job opportunity arose and he moved to DC, to get to know his son. Through the process, the two parents started seeing each other again.

With them was Lee Fusco, who had been worried sick about his father, glued to the TV yet not wanting to know anything. Taylor had picked his friend up, the two becoming friends over the past couple of years, so he wouldn't be alone. 

Tully's wife and children weren't far behind. She had cried and smacked her husband for scaring her and hugged him for being a hero. 

At the moment the floor was quiet, most of the Agents were settled, their families with them. 

Agent Shaw was asleep, the drugs finally taking affect. She was going to be one sore person for the next few days, and there were some deep cuts that required stiches along her arms and legs. Ribs were bruised, but lucky none had been cracked or broken. It had taken her the longest to settle down and rest, the nurses had found her pacing the hallways a few times, before they got a chemical mixture that put her to sleep.

Joey ended up with a cracked collar bone, though he wasn't quite sure how he got it. It wasn't until they stripped him of his weapons, gear, and clothing that the pain had startled to settle in. The doctors stitched the bullet wound to his upper left arm, along with cleaned and bandaged the rest of the scrapes and cuts. At the moment his left arm was bound to his chest, keeping the shoulder secure. He had fallen asleep, watching Die Hard. When one of the nurses mentioned it to his teammate Agent Tully, she didn't understand why he was laughing so hard they had to make sure he hadn't fallen out of his own bed.

Tully had come out of the situation the least scathed, he had a few cracked ribs, from bullet impacts to his vest, but overall he had more bruises and scrapes than major injuries. His wife at the moment was curled up on the bed with them, while both kids were asleep in the second bed.

Lionel was resting on his stomach, listening to his son tell him all about his day, and projects at school. He knew his boy needed to feel as if this was a normal situation. Though he had a feeling that once the hoopla died down, and when all said and done, his boy was going to tease him like everyone else about being shot in the ass. He was pretty sure there was an asscake going to be on his desk, when he went back on duty.

Carter was resting after her surgery. The damage was repaired with no complications, the doctors didn't see any reasons she couldn't go back to active duty once she was healed and finished Physical Therapy. Her son was holding her hand, he had fallen asleep, his arms and head resting on the bed along his mother. Her ex was sitting in one of the lounge chairs watching over his family.

Dr. Tillman stepped into Agent Reese's room, thankful the man was sound asleep. By the time the trauma unit got the remaining team to private rooms, all four had hit their limit. John, always the leader, had kept an eye on his men until they were taken care of. 

His shoulder wound was superficial. The bullet had scraped it after ricocheting off the vest. His arm was secured in a sling, but only to start the healing process. He was sporting a few broken ribs, and a few more were cracked. His breathing was shallow, and they would keep him on oxygen for another twelve hours. She checked his chart and monitors, everything was in good range. Megan tucked his blankets around him, and was ready to leave when his eyes fluttered open.

"Where's the President?"

Of course those would be the first words out of his mouth. 

Megan patted his arm, giving him a reassuring smile. "He just got out of surgery…" She ended up pushing him gently back into the bed as he tried to get up. "Where do you think you're going?"

"He wasn't injured. At least not that I know of. If he was shot and I missed it or he didn't tell me…" John settled back into the bed, frowning at the fact he felt drugged and still very tired.

"Hip replacement." She checked on the IV, adding more fluid to him as he seemed overly groggy. "You know I've been bugging him for years, and even more after he lost Grace. I've had the whole surgery prepped for months now. Going up and down those stairs did finished him off, and it was only going to get worse, with a re-election campaign coming up."

"So you drugged him and replaced his hip without him knowing it?" John gave her a sideways look as he shifted to get comfortable.

"I had Nathan emotionally blackmail him into it, he used your name by the way, which seemed to work." She smirked at him. "He's going to need to be at his best to take on the next months, let alone another four years. Republicans are already saying he's not fit for office, let alone to run for re-election."

"He took on Terrorists." Reese rolled his eyes. "I would like to see the GOP beat that one."

"Oh they already are." She turned on the news, then handed him the remote. "FOX is claiming the Secret Service murdered Americans. CNN is calling the Terrorists anything but Terrorists. The rest of the bunch, is either replaying the shooting outside IFT, while interspersing it with ISIS or having interviews with other Militia groups who screaming the government set this whole thing up as a conspiracy."

"Morons." John picked up the remote and clicked it off. "Every single one of them."

"Well to let you know, there are a few organizations calling you Heroes. Including today's front page of the New York Post, New York Times, and a few other newspapers." She patted his arm, before pulling out her phone. "And we won't get started on Social Media. There's a few hashtags going around. #ReelectPresidentHarold, #SSS …"

"Do I want to know?" He asked looking at her phone.

"Secret Service Six." She shrugged, then scrolled a few more through the trending tags. "And my favorite, #thepresidentandthesuit."

"Oh dear God." He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the pillows. "I take the Press Secretary is having a field day."

"I think he's about ready to gag Ingram." She chuckled putting her phone down. "Consensus is everyone thinks you're heroes, the ranting and raving is bullshit. Harold is at all-time high in the polls, and likely would win by a landslide if they voted today."

"How is he?" John asked, seriously.

"Once he gets up on his feet, you're going to have a nightmare keeping up with him." She gave him a smile, and ran her hand through his hair. She had always liked Agent Reese, he protected Harold, and not just physically or as a job, but kept the darker world away from him as much as he could. "Get some rest. I'll let you see him tomorrow."

John nodded and fell back into a restful slumber.

*******

"Where is my team?" Harold demanded as the nursed helped him into the wheelchair. He hated the thing, and only reason he was getting into it, was because Hospital Policy stated he had to. "It's been days and I've not seen any of them."

"Mr. President." The Director of the Secret Service tried to be patient, but was getting annoyed at his demands. "In any situation like this…"

"As this is the first time we've had a situation like this, try again." He glared at the man, having not really liked him from the start. 

Director Weeks had tried to remove Reese as Head of Presidential Detail in the beginning, having even stated that the rumors about his sexuality weren't a good image for the Presidency. Harold had only stared at him coldly for a few moments, and gently reminded him that the GOP had already tried to use his own sexuality against him in the election, Agent Reese sexual preference was irrelevant. 

"The Agents in question killed civilians." He tried again.

"Terrorists." Harold corrected.

"As with any Law Enforcement Agency, when Officers uses deadly force in a situation, there has to be an investigation." 

"Tell that to Black Lives Matter. Only reason you're investigating, is because the 'victims' are white." Harold countered his argument. He smirked at the nurse when she coughed, he could tell she was desperately trying hard to not give him a fist bump.

Weeks bit back the growl but only barely. "The men watching you are the top of the field…"

"So was Dillinger." He pointed out as he got wheeled out of the room. "I understand my team needs medical leave, all of them were injured protecting me. I understand that the men you've assigned at the moment to my detail are highly qualified and will not take that away from them. What I don't understand is why _my_ team has been removed from _my_ presence and refused access to the White House."

"Pending the investigation…"

Harold reached down and stopped the wheelchair, and turned it to face Weeks. "They served their country with honor, do not giving me any bullshit on pending investigations. If you think for one second, I'm going to allow you or the GOP to toss them under the bus, because no one wants to admit that 'God Fearing Americans' were Terrorists, you have no idea what hell will come down upon you."

"They are all on paid medical leave." He glared down at the President. "I will not be bullied to let them get away with their reckless behavior…"

"Mr. President." Nathan stepped up to the situation, quickly defusing the ticking time bomb. Director Weeks had no idea how far Harold would go to protect his guardians. If Weeks didn't watch it, he'll end up jobless, he seemed to forget the Office of the President has the power to fire him. "Your ride is here."

Harold glared at Weeks, before turning the chair to face Nathan. He held out his hand, letting his friend help him out, and then took the elegant carved cane that was sent as a gift from the Brazilian Ambassador, with an added note that he sent a case of wine to Agent Reese apologizing for his rude behavior, obviously he was not yet passed his prime.

"Sir you should let me…" The nurse backed off by the glare she was given. 

Harold sighed. "I'm sorry it's been a rough morning. Thank you for taking care of me, dealing with my grumpiness, you're an angel. Right now, I need to _walk_ out there." 

She nodded, understanding the reasoning. "Good luck, sir. And just so you know I'll be voting for you come election time."

"Thank You." He gave her a bright smile, didn't give Weeks a secondary glance before squaring his shoulders and walked out of the hospital. The sounds of cheering, screaming, and rapid fire questions came from all directions. There were flashes of lights in his face, and it took the Secret Service to push back the throng of reporters and cameras.

He stopped when he reached 'The Beast' looked past the famous limo to see the streets lined with people. They held up signs showing their love and support. There were a few hate filled ones on the fringes, but he can't win them all.

Harold smiled and waved to the crowd, sending them into a frenzy. With one last look, he settled into the back of the limo, taking a few deep breathes through the pain. Though he had to admit, even after a few days he was starting to feel better. Dr. Tillman stated he would need the cane for another week or two, and as he did his physical therapy, within four to six weeks, he'll start seeing an improvement, as long as he didn't push it.

The President was having a hard time coming to terms with how much work he missed in five days, compared to the six weeks he was recovering from losing Grace. He needed to find out how much his staff had taken up the slack, let alone the office of the Vice President, during those six weeks, and make sure they were compensated.

By the time he got onto Air Force One, he promptly lied down on the bed and fell asleep. Nathan took a picture, and sent it privately to Agent Reese, as he knew the man would want to know how Harold was doing. 

That and he was an evil tease.

In the days after Harold's surgery, he had got out of him what had happened in the IFT Building. 

All of it. 

He was happy his friend found love again, but saddened by the fact there was nothing either man could do, but wait. Both men were dedicated to their jobs and would put their own feelings aside for the good of the country.

He just needed to make sure Harold survived the next five years, so he could have his happy ending. Part of surviving those years, was making sure his team was back protecting him. He had no idea what Director Weeks was playing at, but he was going to use every connection he had to find out. His own guards had been put on 'leave' pending investigation on the shooting of Dillinger, though they were expected back in the next few days, as it was declared a clean kill. 

He was pretty sure Weeks wanted to toss Agents Reese and Shaw under the bus, to calm down the right wing GOP teabagging assholes. The fact there was a Senator in Alabama screaming to have them arrested and tried for murder was hilarious and frightening. 

Harold was up, stiffly and slowly but at least moving, by the time they landed in DC. They waited as 'The Beast' was unloaded, and then proceeded to make their way to the White House, bypassing the reporters camped around the building. 

Nathan had hoped Harold would go inside, and make his way to his residence. 

Okay. 

That was wishful thinking. 

He pretty much knew Harold would go directly to the Oval Office, meet with the Vice President, have at least two more meetings, then after Nathan yelled, bullied and threatened him, he would go to the Executive Residence.

Maybe.

God he already missed John.

The rate things were going the Agent was going to be the only one who would be able to get Harold into bed. 

Now there was a thought Nathan didn't need.

What Nathan hadn't expected was Harold to detour and make his way to the Press Room, and without stopping, he walked onto the stage, and gave everyone a wave.

"It would seem the President has a few words." His Press Secretary smiled brightly, and then gave him a scathing look off camera, before handing over the podium. 

Harold gently made his way over, gripping the podium for support. "I do apologize for the interruption, bear with me for a few moments, and I'll let you get back to the normal run of the mill White House gossip."

The occupants snickered.

"As some of you may know, there was a Terrorist Attack this past week. I'm not talking about the bombing in Baghdad, which is a tragedy in itself and my personal thoughts and prayers go out to those who were affected and have lost loved ones." 

He paused instantly getting everyone's attention. 

"As someone who lived through 9/11, and was inspired to do something, too change the world, to make it safer, I found it ironic, that I ended up in the middle of a Terrorist Attack." 

His eyes shifted around, noticing a few were feeling uncomfortable. 

Good. 

"I've noticed the press, you my friends, have taken to labeling this anything but a Terrorist Attack. It is exactly that. A group of armed men attacked a civilian target, and killed in the name of their agenda. They used death and destruction to make their political statement. This is, in all purpose, the exact definition of a Terrorist Attack. Just because the perpetrators involved weren't Muslim, foreign, or spoke another language, does not change the fact it was a Terrorist Attack." 

He paused and took a sip of water, letting what he said sink in. 

"I can see a few of you squirming in your seats, because it makes you uncomfortable to think Americans as Terrorists. These men weren't a well-regulated Militia. They were Terrorists. They killed innocent people. And was willing to execute William Ingram just to prove a point, and then tried to kill, me, the President of the United States. This wasn't a defense of the United States Constitution, this was Terrorism. Our nation was built on the ability to have Democratic Elections. You don’t like the person in office, vote them out. You don't kill innocents, blow up buildings, and kidnap civilians. That is Terrorism."

He stared at them hard, the only sound was that of the TV Cameras recording. He had a feeling this speech was going live around the world. 

"Six men and women put themselves in danger to protect me. Yes, they killed. They did their jobs. Their job, as I was told many times that night, was to protect me. When someone shoots at me, they shoot back. I am in awe of them. My respect for the Secret Service holds no bounds. These men and woman suffered injuries, they put their lives on the line, they fought and they killed. They are heroes. And I will not stand by while political opponents use them to go after me. You don't like my politics, fine. You don’t like me, fine. You do not sully the reputation of these men and women for profit, for political gain, or to make you feel better because you can't stand the fact that good ol' Americans were in fact Terrorists."

The room was deathly quiet.

"I will grant these men and women the highest honor I can, The Presidential Medal of Freedom. As far as I'm concerned, that is not enough. I watched them work as a cohesive unit, backing each other up, fighting to protect not just me, but each other. They showed true American Patriotism. They defended the United States against Terrorism, with honor."

He paused as a few started to clap, and then the rest of the room caught on. He glanced over to the sidelines, to see Nathan smiling at him, pride in his eyes, along with 'I'll kill you later for this'. His gaze crossed the room, settling on the Secret Service agents in the room, along with White House Security, and a few Capital Police. He gave them all a nod in respect.

They showed theirs in return.

"I'm sure some of you will try to spin this." He gave them a cheeky grin. "Oh, you know I'm on pain meds, so I don't know what I'm talking about. Or I've just been through a traumatic experience and have googly eyes for my hero's." Harold even batted his eyelashes with the last statement, getting a few snorts and snickers. "Spin it all you want. The truth is this. Agent Jonathon Reese, Agent Sameen Shaw, Agent Joslyn Carter, Agent Lionel Fusco, Agent Daniel Tully, and Agent Joseph Durban are heroes. I also want to send my regards to the family and friends to Agent Ernest Trask, who died while protecting Chief of Staff Nathan Ingram. And a special note to Agent Rose Harper, Agent James Stills, and Agent Lily Thorpton, who served with integrity during a time of loss for their team."

With one last pause, he glanced around the room.

"I now hand you back to my skilled Press Secretary who will have answers to your questions, though bear with him, as he's still taking notes from my spontaneous speech."

"Mr. President!?" There were hands raised, waving in the air to get his attention. 

He shook his head, easing a few steps back, before giving them a last wave and headed off the stage, towards the back hallway. He needed to sit down, and at the moment his goal was the Oval Office so he could do just that, and meet with the Vice President at the same time.

As he stepped through the doorway into the hallway, he came up short when he saw the very team he was talking about standing in formation. 

"Mr. Reese." His smile brightened. "How did you get in here?"

"Oh I'll be having discussions about lack of security at the front gate." He smirked at the President. "We're not on duty, but we'll be escorting you to the Residence."

"I have work to do…"

"Sir." John motioned to his arm that was held within a black sling. "Don't make me carry you."

The two stared at each other.

Harold knew he would do it, had no doubt that even with his injuries, which included broken ribs he would do it.

"Fine I'll go to the Residence." 

"Good President." John then held out his good right arm, cocking it slightly to give the President something to hold on as they made their way down the corridor. 

Shaw rolled her eyes at the scene, but kept her mouth shut as she moved to take front. Tully and Joey, settled in behind her, even with Joey's left arm still secured to his chest. Fusco and Carter brought up the rear, slowly and with a limp, but they made sure the President and the Suit were secured.

As they neared the stairs, they stopped at the small elevator that had been installed for Franklin Roosevelt, and then upgraded over the decades. It wasn't large, enough to fit three people, or someone in a wheelchair along with one other person. 

John escorted Harold into the elevator, and closed the doors on the rest of the team. Carter flipped him off, but smiled as she did it. 

"Pathetic can't even get up the stairs." One of the Agents lined the hallway muttered.

"Watch your mouth." Fusco growled at the guy. "Show some damn respect to the President."

"You really don't want to start anything with us." Tully gave the guy a look, before focusing on the others in the hallway. "You really don't want to piss off our boss."

"The lesbian of the fag?"

"The reason you're standing in a hallway and not doing any actual protecting is because you're a moron. Any of us could take you out, hell even with one handed I could take you and your friends out." Joey had a sneer on his face. 

"Would like to see you try."

"Hey boys." Carter held up her hand, stopping the pissing contest before it turned into a brawl. The team was on thin ice being in the White House, they were all fighting the higher ups, who were looking for escape goats, especially considering it was one of their own that had helped the terrorists get into the building.

A few gave them dirties looks, but backed down. As she made her way towards the stairs, taking Fusco's hand for support, one of the Agents, pushed his foot out just enough to get her to trip.

Joey seeing it out of the corner of his eye, turned grabbed the guys arm, using his upper body he shoved his shoulder into the his chest, twisted, and tossed him to the floor. With a smirk to his teammates, he finally was able to use the famous line. "Yippee-ki-ya motherfuckers."

***

Harold slid his hand down John's arm to take his hand. "Now what Mr. Reese?"

"You go back to running the country, and I'll protect you." He ran his thumb over Harold's, looking down at him. "Nothing can happen."

"I know."

"Four years isn't that long." John squeezed his hand.

"Five, counting the rest of this term." He sighed, not liking the situation, but knew they had a job to do. "I'm still making plans on retiring to the countryside. We can get a dog."

"I was thinking of getting you one, now." John shifted slightly, taking Harold's arm gently as the doors opened, and they stepped out. He was surprised to only see Shaw. 

"A little mutt, like Chumley?" He asked, frowning as he realized the rest of the guards were missing. He glanced over at Shaw. "What happened?"

"An idiot decided to prove he was an idiot. Joey smacked the shit out of him with one hand, so they're a bit behind." She smiled. "I'm so proud of him."

"I was thinking a Police Dog, maybe a Belgian Malinois, one of the bitches on the K-9 had puppies. I can train one to eat anyone who comes near you." John smirked at Harold's horrified expression. 

"This is a good idea." Shaw nodded in agreement. "We can get it to rip the throat out of morons!"

"Not really a lap dog, Mr. Reese." Harold cringed at the idea of such a big dog.

"I'm sure Reese has something he could put in your lap." Shaw smirked at the two of them, ignoring John's glare, and Harold's horrified expression. "There's the rest of them, took you long enough."

"Joey was doing his Die Hard impression." Tully rolled his eyes at his grinning partner. "So now that we're all here."

"Before everything starts up again, and we all get back to work." Harold looked at each of them, softly smiling as he realized how much each and every one of them meant to him. "Thank You."

"It's what we do." Carter gave him a smile.

"I know. But it's more than that. You've been my friends, and have stood by me even when you're off duty." He couldn't express in words what he was feeling.

"Hey." Fusco smirked. "We get it."

"We got your back, Mr. President." Tully bowed his head in respect.

"All the way to the end." Joey saluted.

"You just can't leave the White House." Shaw added, with a smirk.

"Ever." John added.

"You're going to have to let me out at some time." Harold grinned at the group of them. "How else are we going to get the sequel?"

*******

Harold stood on the 65th Floor of IFT, and looked out over the city. It was one in the morning, and he had just given his acceptance speech, down in the Ballroom. There was something satisfying standing on that stage, in this building, giving that speech. 

The past year seemed the easiest and the hardest, than the three before.

It had taken six weeks of 'investigations' and recovery before his team was re-instated. Harold had asked Nathan, to see what the White House could do _officially_ to help. He was ready to get his own team of lawyers to help, when Reese pulled a rabbit out of the hat. The Senate Committee that had been convened to 'investigate' the situation ended up facing one of the toughest lawyers in the United States.

Reese still hadn't told him, how he knew Harvey Specter.

Those moments when Harold needs a pick me up, he watches the video of Specter, making the Senator from Alabama stammer in horror and run out of the room. It was pretty much known at that time the 'investigation' was over. But, it spectacularly fell apart when former Senator Greer took the stand and had nothing but good things to say about Agent Reese, and how they should all be thankful to him for getting him recruited in the first place.

Add in public opinion on the _Secret Service Six_ , the Committee deemed there was no wrong doing, and closed the investigation. The next day Harold had awarded them their medals. He made Reese bend down so he could pin it on him. 

No one was surprised when Tully announced his wife was pregnant. They teased him for months, stating they should name it Harold. The President rolled his eyes, but made sure that Mrs. Tully and future Baby Tully had enough diapers, clothes, and toys. In the end they named the bouncy baby boy John. He had never seen Reese so shy, yet proud. He fell more in love with him, watching as he held his namesake and gave him tour of the White House.

Joslyn and Paul Carter remarried in a simple ceremony in the Rose Garden. Only family and a few friends were in attendance. When Joey teased her about adding to the baby count, she hit him, and said she's only dealing with grandkids. Then promptly lectured Taylor about not getting a girl pregnant and would kick his ass if he did something stupid and irresponsible.

He was shocked to discover that Joey had been sweet on his secretary, Andrea Gutierrez, but had not approached her, due to their jobs. In the end she asked him out. They were still going strong six months later. Harold had to wonder if there was going to be another wedding in the Rose Garden.

He enjoyed watching the two banter and flirt, but some days it was difficult knowing he had to keep his distance from John. It had taken them a few months to settle into their new non-relationship. In time they laughed at their awkwardness and decided to be what they've always have been – friends. John teased him, Harold secretly enjoyed it, and they continued to fuel the hashtag #thepresidentandthesuit.

There were only a few times during the re-election that he wondered if it was worth it, but in the end he knew it was. The GOP had tried to use everything against him. His dead wife. His injuries and hip replacement. His guards. Fear mongering he was going to appeal the 2nd Amendment. He had eyerolled at that one, obviously once again someone hadn't paid attention in Civics Class. 

He kept going and refused to play at their level. In the end, it won him a second term, with the highest popular vote in United States history.

The only down side.

Four more years of being next to John and not able to touch.

He heard the secured steal door open with a swoosh and then close with a heavy thud. After all the repairs, Nathan had shown him is new Server Rooms that will be ready for him when he retired. It was basically a teched out Panic Room.

The one thing he had never told his friend was about the program that Root and CIA had wanted.

Now that had been an interesting meeting.

He sat across from the Alicia Corwin, drinking tea and having a polite civilized conversation about how they will never discuss the fact the CIA sent men into IFT to steal information and try to kill the President.

The CIA in turn won't mention the fact that his Secret Service tossed one of their Agents out the window. 

They came to an understanding.

"So Harold." John smiled at Harold as he walked the length of the servers, towards the back office. "How does it feel to be President again?"

"About the same as yesterday." He turned and smiled. "Where's Bear?"

John's threat of getting him a guard dog ended up a reality. He introduced him to Bear, when the little guy was six months old. He had proceeded to chew on Harold's Italian loafers and rip to shreds his favorite silk tie. Then flopped in the middle of the Oval Office and started snoring. Harold loved him instantly.

Over the year, he worked with John and the K-9 Unit Trainer, who was staffed at the White House, to learn how to handle the guard dog. It took a while, but his Dutch improved and Bear had become a familiar sight to anyone who came to the Oval Office. He ended up with an oversize dog bed in front of the Resolute Desk. He looked cute and adorable, but he was as well trained as his Agents. Even Bear had his own vest and gear, and had learned to work with each of the six Agents, just in case.

"With Fusco, he's taking him back to the Suite." He stepped up to him, and set down the bottle of Champaign on to the desk, along with two cups. "Let's hope his Dutch as improved."

"I think Bear does it on purpose." Harold watched as Reese popped the cork and poured the drink. He took one of the cups and held it up. "To a very long four years."

John took a few sips then took both cups and set them back on the desk. He reached out cupped Harold's cheek, rubbing his thumb over it softly. "It will be worth the wait." He leaned down and took his mouth into a heated kiss.

It was the one night they would give themselves. It was a promise to each other, that a future awaited them. 

Harold gripped his jacket and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. He leaned back when the need for air became too much. "How long do we have?"

"A few hours." He slipped off his jacket, tossing it onto the desk. "Shaw is taking watch. I may never hear the end of it, but …" He kissed him again, while his hands worked the buttons on his vest. " … it will be worth it."

Harold was tempted to rip at the crisp white shirt, but knew they would have to make an appearance at some point in the day, and the rumors were already bad, it was lucky for them most thought it was ramblings of fangirls.

"Off." He pushed at the white shirt, finally getting to run his hands down the smooth chest, tweaking nipples as he went. When he heard the deep moan come from John, he smiled wickedly and did it again. He squeaked when he was hefted up and sat on the desk, which he soon realized worked to his advantage. Harold wrapped his legs around his Agent's hips thrusting upward, as his hands squeezed that perfect ass. John's moan, almost sent him over the edge, but it would seem his actions had sent John first.

"Now that's embarrassing." Reese chuckled into his neck, before nibbling on it gently, making sure not to leave a mark. 

"I'm honored." Harold sighed tilting his head slightly, giving him better access.

John stepped back, and stripped out of his pants, tossing his boxer briefs into the waste can, before folding the pants onto the chair where his coat rested, his shirt soon followed. He needed to look presentable when they left. 

Harold stared at the man before him. Every part of him was strong and lean. He had a military body, hard muscle and lines. He reached out, letting his hand wander down the bare chest, following the line of hair to the hardening cock. 

He licked his lips. 

There was so much he wanted to do, yet so little time.

Reese took advantage of Harold's distraction and got his vest and shirt unbuttoned, and with care peeled off all the layers, setting them gently to the side. He then knelt down, took off his shoes, socks and slid his hand around his ankles massaging them gently.

Harold moaned.

That wasn't supposed to erotic.

Reese got the President's pants open, releasing the weeping cock to his gaze. He gave one last look to Harold, whose eyes were blown in anticipation. With a lick to his lips, he took the cock into his mouth, swallowing it down in one move.

Harold's hand slid into the short hair, gripping it tightly as he came instantly.

When Reese licked him clean, he snickered as he pulled him into a kiss. "Now that the edge is off…"

"I have plans for you, Mr. President." He lifted Harold off the desk, and carried him over to the large black leather couch, big enough for the two of them. "I got two hours and a long list of things I want to do."

Harold eyes rolled into the back of his head, as John started working on his list.

***

Shaw didn't say a word to either of the men, as they stepped out of the 'Panic Room' and headed for the elevators. She kept her mouth shut, and didn't show any emotion over the situation at all, as they escorted the President through the kitchen, to the garage and the waiting 'Beast'. It wasn't until Harold was in the limo, and they headed for the waiting SUV, that she gave Reese a look and smirked. "I thought you dressed to the right."

He glared at her. "Should I be concerned you noticed that?"

"I notice everything." She gave him a wink. "And really Reese, commando?"

"Shut up."

In a moment of humanity she gave him a true smile. "Hope it was good." Reese's smirk was enough of an answer. "Hope it will last four years." The glare returned. She only smirked and settled into her position in the backseat. 

Reese settled into the front passenger seat, their conversation over, and this night wouldn’t be brought up again.

It was going to be a long four years. Reese will stand two steps to the left and behind the President, until they escort Harold to Air Force One, one last time. And then, he could move up those steps and truly spend the rest of his life by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read my Afternoon Fics before they get posted to A03 - follow me on [Tumblr](http://nico-meridius.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Interested in the bulk of my work in fanfiction: [Sylum Clan](https://www.sylumclan.com/sylumblog/welcome-to-sylum-clan/)
> 
> Please take a moment to check out my: [Published Fiction](https://www.nicholasjfinch.com)


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